The Lion, The Witch, The Warrior Queen and a Wardrobe
by AvyJC15
Summary: Eleanor, the rumored granddaughter of Professor Kirke, is a rather quiet, reserved and mysterious girl. When the Pevensie family are evacuated out to the country, they are left confused by the feeling she brings to each one of them, unaware that they have left a similar feeling upon her. Unaware, also, are these five youngsters of the adventure they will encounter together.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

"Hello! My name is Peter."

"And I'm Lucy. Oh! And this is Ella!"

Ella chuckled. "I can introduce myself, Lucy."

"Sorry..."

Ella smiled. "It's alright. Anyway, we have an amazing story to tell you."

"This story happened when we were very young," said Peter.

"Well... we are young _now_, but we once were much older..." Lucy said.

"But that's _much_ later on in the story, Lucy," Ella pointed out.

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "You are just confusing our audience. The story began when we four children moved to this huge house in the country and the first day we arrived..."

"There was a lion and a witch and a wardrobe!" Lucy exclaimed.

"Not yet," said Peter.

"Yeah; I threw a tantrum when you guys arrived," Ella deadpanned.

"Oh, right..." Lucy smiled and looked down sheepishly. "Sorry."

"The story began when we four children moved to this big house in the country and the first day—"

"Everybody died!" Lucy blurted out.

"Luuuuucy!"

"What?"

"That's the end of the story..." said Peter.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Okay. Ella and the witch had this huge fight and..."

"Lucy."

"What?"

"That's still almost the end of the story," Ella pointed out.

"Well, that's the most exciting part and..."

"It doesn't matter," Peter said.

"You have to tell it in order," Susan piped in, making you all jump in surprise. "One step at a time."

Ella looked at her with wide eyes. "When did you get here?"

"We've been here all along," Edmund deadpanned.

"How did I not notice?"

Edmund and Susan smirked. "We told you we'd manage to sneak up on you one day."

Ella rolled her eyes and groaned. "Introduce yourselves, you numpties."

Susan rolled her eyes and smiled. "Hi, I'm Susan. And this is our little brother—"

"Edmund. And I'm not little!"

"Back to the story?" Ella suggested in an exasperated tone as they were getting nowhere.

"Right, okay." Lucy gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry, this one's on me."

"They're _all_ on you," Edmund muttered.

Peter rolled his eyes. "The story began when we four children moved to this big house in the country and the first day—"

"We were crowned Kings and Queens of Narnia and I met Mister Tumnus. The White Witch turned everyone into stone statues..."

"We were exploring the house," Peter continued over Lucy, ignoring her ramble. "And we looked into this large empty room..."

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy! Waaaaait! What are you doing?" Peter asked when she was done rambling.

"I'm telling them the story!" she said with a wide smile.

"I know—"

"But you told the whole thing at once," said Edmund.

"They won't understand the story," Susan chimed in. "Start at the beginning."

Lucy grinned. "That's easy, it began with me!" She paused, recalling their adventure. "No, wait! It began with Ella first, then when we came, it continued with me since Ella was disappearing a lot."

"Don't forget the lot of us!" Peter exclaimed before he and Lucy laughed. "I'm Peter and I'm the eldest and I was about fourteen at the time of this story..."

"Actually, you were fifteen," Ella said, grabbing a biscuit from the plate Edmund had brought not so long ago.

"Right!" Lucy nodded and turned to beam at her brother. "And you were so good and brave!"

Peter smiled, slightly flustered at the praise. "And then there was our sister Susan and she was about twelve."

"Thirteen," Ella and Susan corrected in unison.

"She's nice," Lucy chimed in once more.

"And then there was our brother Edmund. He was nine—"

"Ten."

"— then..."

"Yecch!" Lucy squealed.

Peter smiled. "And you, Lucy, you were eight."

Ella looked at him, blinking. "How is it that you remember no one's age— not even yours— except for Lucy's?"

Peter blushed in embarrassment while Ella shook her head and rolled her eyes, turning back to look at you. "Then there was me." She smiled at you as she reintroduced herself. "I'm Ella, as Lucy said before. Well, my name is Eleanor, but don't call me that or I'll shoot you in the neck with an arrow—"

"She actually will," Edmund piped in.

Ignoring Edmund's intervention, Ella continued, "Anyway, I had just turned sixteen a few months before they came to the boarding house."

"I never got why you and Mason called it a boarding house," Edmund muttered, helping himself to another biscuit.

"I never got why you always ate too many sweets and biscuits," Ella replied. "Keep that up and you'll end up like the milkman."

"Hey!"

"And we call it so because it actually is a boarding house— why do you think the lot of you are staying here?"

"Ella? Peter?" Lucy said. "I have an idea. Let's not tell them... let's show them!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Peter asked.

"Like this!" Their voices were suddenly overcome by a bombing air raid sfx (SFX means "Special Effects"— could be visual or auditive) in London.

"Brilliant, Lucy!" Peter shouted over the sfx. "Except—"

"Except _this_ isn't a film, Lucy," Ella said, giving the girl an apologetic smile.

Lucy pouted. "Right. Sorry. I forgot."

Peter sighed. "It all started with the air raids over London in World War II."

Ella ran a hand down her face. "No, Peter, it started a year after this World War began. Remember? The story started with me."

Peter blushed for what seemed like the millionth time in her presence. "Right."

This time, Ella sighed. "_I'll_ start from the beginning." She turned to look back at you and gave you a warm smile as she told you the tale from the very beginning. Or at least, their beginning.

"This story begins in 1940..."


	2. Preamble

**Preamble**

It was 1940. The war had already been going on for a year and was quickly reaching a steaming point. Mass atrocities were now harrying the continent.

_Some_ people considered times like these perfect to become reckless. Of course, with no bad intentions whatsoever... unfortunately, with no good results either. One must be, of course, over eighteen years of age to enter the army in whatever position drafted. And a man. _She_ wasn't of age yet, and she certainly was no man. But that never stopped her from trying before, and it certainly wasn't going to stop her then.

Blankly, she stared out the window; the sky was gray, just as it usually was there, and large clouds were moving toward her. She heard a tapping on the window and it quickly became a pitter-patter. All she did was watch as people ran for cover, two stories below, and umbrellas flew open as the clouds dropped their buckets of water, puddles plinking as the rainfall became heavier. She never took her attention away from the murmuring of the rain through the window as it was the only thing, at that moment, that could keep her from lashing out at any by-passer.

"Eleanor." A big hand was placed upon her shoulder, but she did not turn around.

"Ellie." The large hand, which clearly belonged to a man, gently shook her shoulder. Again, she emitted no response.

The man whose handheld Eleanor's shoulder sighed and sat down beside her, running a hand through his silky straight, short black hair.

"Please, Ella," he pleaded, looking back up at the sixteen-year-old who finally turned to look at him the moment he called her so. The realization then hit him as he stared at the girl's face, which was void of emotion.

Her dark skin was slightly paler than the usual, and her chocolate brown hair no longer had its usual shine to it. Her beautiful hazelnut, green-specked eyes that once shone with life and happiness had become nothing but a dull shade of brown and were simply... empty. They didn't light up like they usually did when they caught sight of him, and that really brought a bullet to his heart. It hurt him a lot. It broke him inside to see her that way.

Eleanor turned her gaze back to the window. "They're gone, Charles." She paused. "All long gone. And what if you don't come back," she said, though it wasn't a question. She was pointing out reality.

Charles did not— _could_ not answer. He didn't know what to tell her to make her feel better— to make himself feel better.

Eleanor's father met his quietus at war in 23. Incidentally, it was but months before she was given sight and breath, so he sadly wasn't there when she was brought into the Kirke's humble abode, and she was left with his wife, her mother then by adoption, and five older brothers, Charles being one of them. Around six years later, she lost her eldest brother in another war.

She was wrecked.

The only thing that lightened up her spirits, then, was her first trip to Narnia the week after her loss. She'd been revealed the truth about who she was, where she came from; she was Narnian. Her earthling given name was Eleanor _Shealyn_ Kirke, her first name derived from the suffix of her Narnian name being Ella. Ironically, she always preferred to be called Ella, even before she knew of her true origins. It was that or Shea, and so everyone who knew her called her one or the other, though it was mostly Ella. Charles' nicknames for her always varied; he would call her Ella, but sometimes also Ellie or Elle. She was only called Eleanor when she was in trouble or disappointed someone, which was rare, except for three people who called her one or the other most of the time.

Currently, she only had her one brother left, Missus Macready, who is a caretaker of sorts, and Professor Digory Kirke, who is the father of her adoptive father whom she never met, and the father-in-law of her mother whom she lost when the current war had begun. She never minded the idea of being adopted, though. They were her parents, and her brothers were her brothers. Blood isn't always thicker than water in such cases. Besides, she was raised by them. She couldn't just opt and leave after finding out she was adopted. No. They took her in when no one else would. They fed her, gave her clothes, and gave her shelter. They cared for her, so she couldn't just turn her back on them. They were her family no matter what.

But now she lost them, and every single loss was just as bad as the previous one. Henry, the second eldest, perished in another war, two years after Erick's demise. The third eldest, George, died from a tumor that was too deeply and fatally plunged inside of him, as an arrow to a heart, to be removed. Ella wanted to donate her own hollow organ, but he refused, not wanting her to throw her life away at such a young age. Fabien, the fourth eldest, passed in her arms, taking a bullet for her throughout a bank robbery.

She never forgave herself for that.

Charles wasn't exactly making anything better for her; the now twenty-two-year-old man had just enrolled and got drafted in one of the aiding units of the United States Navy that would be steering the Pearl Harbor with his best friend, Thomas Jameson, or Tommy as Eleanor often referred to him, who also happened to be a very close friend of hers. They gave Charles a temporary leave because Ella had gotten herself into deep trouble— again. She tried to pass off as an eighteen-year-old and enroll into the army. Again. Of course, they wouldn't let her in because she was underage, but there was also the fact that she was but a female. Yes, perhaps they would've let her in as a nurse, or an agent, or something that wasn't a soldier or anything remotely close to it, but they didn't. And Eleanor, being of a royal and warrior bloodline, threw a tantrum. An ugly one.

She decided it was the perfect place to prove herself worthy of being let into the battlefield and challenged at least half the trained soldiers present at the establishment, where the recruitment took place and beat almost all of them by herself. Yes, she impressed the Colonel and many of the other spectators, particularly one female that could easily be mistaken for a goddess of war in her battalion armor, but that didn't mean Ella wouldn't get an intervention for almost, recklessly, beating the entire staff, and doing it for about thrice now. Her brother was disappointed in her for being so reckless, but nothing he said would change her mind. It had become rare for her to care about anything, to the point where even Charles gave up in trying to make her care, but he didn't know that some part of her still held fondness. She still loved, though she denied it. She still cared— she cared about him, about her 'grandfather'... even about Missus Macready, but she didn't let it show.

After staring at his younger sister for a moment, Charles let out an exhausted sigh. "Look, Elle, I know how badly you want to be out there and—"

"Do you?" Eleanor mused, humorlessly.

"Ella." Charles groaned.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, never looking away from the window. "I wish I were back in Narnia," she muttered.

This made Charles groan again at his unawareness of this Narnia she always seemed to mumble about ever since she was six. After Erick's death. He'd always ask her what Narnia was and she would go on and on about it, describing every single detail of that wondrous place that seemed so surreal to him. But lately, she seemed to hate it, no matter how much she wished she was there. And that made him feel bad. He had wanted her to grow up and act her age, but all the pressure he had placed upon her, and everything she'd had to endure since such a young age... he was being selfish and knew it. He didn't deny it. He knew it was partially his fault that she became reckless and danger-thirsty. He knew he was being unfair by telling her off about being the way she was and trying multiple times to join the army, but being the oldest sibling now, he had to. He had to make sure she stopped all her nonsense and stayed safe while he was away, where other people were undoubtedly becoming more and more desperate to find an escape.

When the Blitz grew from smaller places such as London, the citizens took it upon themselves to start evacuating all children to keep them safe and away from the battlefield. It hadn't been taken seriously by many as they weren't directly targeted as many others, until one night, through the Blitz, the enemy party decided to attack one of the smaller civilizations.

Finchley. Such a small town in North London, in the London Borough of Barnet, you wouldn't expect it to even be noticed by the enemy. Unfortunately, for its residents, it was. They really put the 'surprise' in the element of surprise when they bombarded the town. Parents panicked while the children froze out of trauma. It was much the case in the Pevensie family.

"Edmund! Get away from there!" Missus Pevensie yelled at her son. "What do you think you're doing?! Peter! Peter, quickly, the shelter. Now!"

Peter, the eldest Pevensie, rushed in and grabbed his younger brother. "Come on!" he ushered him.

But Edmund did not want to leave just yet.

"Wait..." he said, glancing around quickly, looking for something.

Peter groaned in exasperation. "Come on, leave it!"

"Mommy!" a small voice cried out from another room in the house.

Susan, the second eldest, shot up from her bed, grabbed the flashlight from her nightstand and spun on her heels, noticing her little sister was still in her bed. "Lucy, come on!"

With that, the Pevensies ran out to the shelter, Lucy shrieking in fear along the way. They were but a few steps from the door when Edmund, suddenly, turned around as if forgetting something very important.

"Come on, quickly!" Missus Pevensie ushered them.

"Run! Run!" Peter shouted.

"Hurry!" Susan shouted.

"Mum!" Lucy cried out.

"Wait, Dad!" Edmund said.

Peter reached to grab him, but his brother had slipped from his grasp, causing him to chase after him. "Ed!"

"Edmund, no!" Missus Pevensie screamed.

"I'll get him!" Peter shouted over his shoulder, running after the young Pevensie boy.

"Peter, come back!" Missus Pevensie cried out.

But Peter ignored his mother's plea and continued forward. "Ed! Come here! Get down!"

He was ignored as well. Edmund ran inside, grabbed a picture of his father, and was then suddenly tackled to the ground by his older brother as a window nearby exploded.

"Come on, you idiot, run! Get out!" Peter shouted at him. And they ran back into the shelter with Missus Pevensie ushering them in as she caught sight of them.

"Come on! Hurry!" she shouted. And Peter shoved Edmund into a bed in the shelter.

"Why can't you think of anyone but yourself? You're so selfish! You could've got us killed!" Peter yelled at him.

"Stop it!" Missus Pevensie said before turning her attention to Edmund. "It's okay. Shh."

Peter glared down at him. "Why can't you just do as you're told?" he glowered before turning and slamming the shelter door.

That same night, as the two Kirke siblings entered their grandfather's mansion, Charles slowed down and fell into pace with his sister.

"You really gotta stop doing this, Ella," Charles said calmly. "You got many warnings before, and this time, an intervention. You were lucky my superior was sensible enough to give me a partial leave, but I might not be here next time. You really gotta stop."

"Well, lottery's going on despite the horrid timing. I guess I should try my luck," she replied with a shrug. "See what happens."

"As who? Eleanor from _Finchley_? They'll catch you. Worse, they'll actually take you," Charles cried out. "And not where you wanna go."

"Look, I know you don't think I can do this."

"Obviously, you're a girl!" Charles exclaimed himself.

Ella glared up at him. "And you're sexist! Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I don't know how to look after myself," she snarled. "You saw what I can do. They saw what I can do, _fourteen_ times now!"

"It's a war, Elle," Charles tried to reason.

"I know it's a war. You don't have to tell me," she snapped.

"Why are you so keen to fight? Who exactly are you doing this for, El? And don't say dad or any of the others because you've used that excuse one too many times, even though it's not exactly a valid one. Besides, there are so many important jobs."

Ella frowned. "What am I gonna do? Collect flowers..."

"Yes!"

"... in my red hooded cape and little straw basket?" she said, tone laced in sarcasm.

"Exactly!"

"Or maybe I'll collect some scrap metal in my little red wagon," Ella deadpanned.

"Why not?" Charles asked.

"I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Charles. I'm a _girl_, remember?" she sassed before sighing. "Come on! There are people laying down their lives out there. Not only men, but women as well. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."

"Right. 'Cause you got nothing to prove," Charles replied sarcastically. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

**_If_**_ you come back_, Ella couldn't help but think. Mentally shaking her head, she shrugged the thought away with an eye roll. "How can I? You're taking all bits of stupidity with you."

"You're a brat."

"And you're a prat. Be careful," Ella said. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Charles could feel his heart warm up as a small smile made its way onto his sister's face.

As Charles started to walk down the hall to his room, Ella called after him, "Don't win the war till I get there!" making him chuckle, though just as he was about to close his door behind him, she called him again.

"Charles."

"What?"

She bit her lip, her hand tightening on the knob of her door. "Promise me you'll come back."

She knew she couldn't ask that... she knew she shouldn't. But she just couldn't help them. Her family always was dead serious when it came to promises. They were always filled with determination to keep them. She had asked her other brother to come back, but she hadn't made them promise, so maybe that's why they didn't fight any harder to return safe and soundly. She was being unfair, but she needed to be promised. She needed to make sure she wasn't going to lose him too.

Charles looked at her with soft eyes and sent her a half-hearted smile that slightly broke her heart. And he knew it; he could see it in her eyes. But he was going to oblige all the same. He needed to see her smile one last time tonight.

"I promise."

And she smiled.


	3. It feels like a goodbye to me

**It feels like a goodbye to me**

"Good morning, Elle!" Charles greeted the next morning as he entered the kitchen, where Ella was already eating her breakfast, reading a newspaper.

It often went on like this: Ella first to be awake and eating breakfast despite her grumpy-morning self while reading the newspaper she always made sure to finish before the head of the house got it, and Charles coming in all cheery only to end up being snapped at and slapped on the back of his head. Only this time, he wasn't snapped at, even less slapped.

He was greeted by mumbled "Morning."

Of course, he couldn't expect the usual. He would be leaving back to America in less than an hour or so; there was no way Ella would be her usual self at a time like this.

"What are you eating?" he asked, trying his best to still sound cheerful as he raided the refrigerator.

"Breakfast," Ella deadpanned, quietly sipping her hot chocolate.

Charles let his head fall and his shoulders slouch in defeat. She was seriously hard to crack.

"I figured," he mumbled with a slightly sarcastic edge in his tone.

His mumble was followed by an eerie silence. He expected it to stay that way, though he found himself slightly jumping in surprise when a small voice spoke softly, saying, "I made you some."

He spun on his heels and saw another plate placed in front of the seat across from Ella. The plate was filled with grilled sausages, scrambles eggs, toast, and fruit on the side, with a mug of coffee. It looked and smelled mouth-watering.

"You..."

Ella hummed, slightly nodding her head, as her eyes settled upon him, softening. Charles could feel his heart drop as the reminder of him having to leave soon burned him bad. Such trivial things she did for him made him feel that way; he didn't want to leave her. Unfortunately, he already gave his word, and if there was one thing one would never forget about a Kirke was that they never went back on their word or their promises.

"Thank you." He shut the refrigerator door and sat down.

They were silent for a moment again before Eleanor decided to speak up. "When are you leaving?"

Charles sipped his coffee before answering. "In an hour or so. They'll send someone to pick me up." Ella stared at him blankly. "I packed last night," he added before continuing his meal. Ella nodded absentmindedly as she stood and poured herself another mug of hot chocolate before returning to her seat. "Tastes good, Elle."

"Thanks."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of them was bothered by the quiet.

"So, how's school? Have you made any new friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

Ella looked up from her plate and gave him that same blank look again. "It's summer. I don't have school. And even if I did, I should be in graduate school by now as I know every subject from the high already, but the teachers are too stupid to see that. As for friends, yes, I have many, actually. Mostly boys, but I also have plenty of girl friends."

Charles blinked a few times at her blunt, slightly monotonous answer. "Right, summer."

Ella sighed. "I'll stop."

"Stop what?" Charles asked, looking up at her once again in puzzlement.

She groaned softly. "I'll stop trying to enroll." He slowly started to smile. "But you better not die on me 'cause if you do, I'll track your body down, resurrect you, then kill you again myself."

Charles snorted. "Like that could happen."

Ella found herself smirking secretively. "You have no idea," she mumbled, but Charles heard. And that only puzzled him more.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Ella said in a slight sing-song tone. She then tried to smile, but what came out was more of a grimace.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he shook his head. "Always a punk, aren't you?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "Always a prat, aren't you?" she retorted mockingly.

Chuckling again, Charles stood and grabbed his now empty plate and took it to the sink to wash it, but not before ruffling his sister's hair, making her grimace and swat his hand away as she, too, stood up and grabbed her empty dishes.

"Never the hair," she threatened playfully.

"Never the hat," he replied when she playfully swatted his head, where his Sergeant hat was neatly placed.

Ella rolled her eyes and grabbed her almost empty mug of hot chocolate. She brought it up to her lips when Charles spoke again as she took a sip.

"So... any boyfriends?" She spat the drink back into her mug, causing him to grimace. "Well, that is just disgusting... and that was not a very lady-like action."

Ella glared at him. "I'll show you lady-like," she muttered, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Stab you with a heel— the ultimate lady-like action."

Charles chuckled, but then stopped when his sister glared at him again. "What? I just asked a simple question," he said innocently, raising his hands as if surrendering to the police.

Eleanor scoffed. "A simple question you shouldn't ask your little sister at seven in the freakin' morning!"

"You spend too much time with Tommy," Charles remarked.

"Not my fault you decided, one day, to bring home an American," she replied with a shrug before glaring at him again. "And that's way off topic."

"I know, but you wouldn't answer my question."

Ella surprised him by looking angry. "Because, as I said merely seconds ago, you don't ask that at seven in the morning."

"Then when can I ask that?" he asked, defiantly.

Ella pretended to think about it as she brought a finger to her chin in a comical way and stared off into thin air. "How about..." Charles found himself leaning forward in anticipation, as she took her time to reply. "Never," she finished flatly before gently moving him to the side, so she could wash the dishes.

Charles groaned. "Elle."

"No," Ella replied stubbornly as she scrubbed soap onto the plates.

Charles opened his mouth once more, about to say something when he was cut off by a loud honking from the outside of the mansion. They both froze, Ella staring blankly at the running water, and Charles staring brokenly at her.

It was time.

Eye slightly twitching, Ella turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry off her hands. She'd finish the dishes later... if she felt herself up to it.

"Ella..."

Ella's hands instantly flew to the edge of the sink, knuckles almost gone white by how tight she was holding onto it. "I know," she whispered.

Charles took a deep breath and pulled her into a hug in which she instantly clung to him as if her life was about to end. "I promised, Elle. I made you a promise and I'm going to keep it, I swear to God."

"I know you will," she whispered, her head buried into his chest.

They stayed like that for a few more seconds before finally pulling away from each other and making their way to the front door of the mansion, where Charles' bags were waiting for him. Ella's heart seemed to quicken each step they grew closer to the door. After placing his bags in the car up front, Charles turned and walked back to his sister, who stood by the entrance door of the mansion.

"Don't forget to—"

Charles cut her off. He pulled Ella into another hug and smiled when he pulled back. "I know."

Ella sighed, frowning. "You and Tommy better come back," she muttered. "And be careful."

"I'll be fine— I'll write to you every day to prove it. I'll even have Tom remind me, which he obviously won't pass out on doing every second. I promise."

Ella's lip slightly twitched upward.

"Take care, Charlie," she whispered, making Charles smile again. It had been so long since he had heard her call him that.

"You too, Elle. Don't do anything reckless."

"I'll try."

They stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, both their hearts dropping.

"Why does this feel like a goodbye?" Ella mumbled, trying to stop herself from crying.

It had been years since she last cried; she wasn't going to start now, no matter how painful the situation was.

Charles looked down at her and sighed as he pulled her into a tight hug. "It's not a goodbye."

"It feels like a goodbye to me," she muttered.

He pulled away and held her at arm's length. "It's not." He smiled softly. "It's a... 'see you later, alligator.'"

Ella let out a breathless chuckle. "'In a while, crocodile.'"

And with one last hug, Charles was off, leaving Ella standing by the front door of the mansion. She still stood there after he was completely gone. She stared up at the gloomy sky, biting her lower lip in hesitation. He told her not to do anything reckless, and she agreed she'd try. She didn't promise, though. Closing the door, she sprinted up the stairs, thanking God Missus Macready was out buying groceries, and ran to her room and locked herself in before throwing herself on her bed.

"It definitely feels like a goodbye to me," she mumbled against her pillow, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

The day after Charles left was the day Eleanor became antisocial... not that she never was before. She just went a little bit to the extreme this time. She may have gone out to her usual adventures with Black Jack Baron, her black horse, the day he left, but after her brother was gone, she stopped riding him. She would still go see him, but she would simply talk to him or let him and the mare, Candid, out of their stables to run freely while she watched them.

Other than that, she stopped trying to enroll into the army and barely left her room unless it was to eat, which had now become rare, or when she was sleep-walking at night; fortunately, she would always wake up before being caught. She once startled herself when she woke up and found that she was in the _spare_ room, where the old wardrobe was. That was three nights after Charles left. After that night, she often went there just to stare at it with a sad look in her eyes. She missed her place of birth.

The days soon turned into weeks, and before she knew it, she had spent a month literally sulking at any given moment. It was toward that time that she finally got word of the evacuation going on in North London. It was then that Missus Macready and her grandfather told her. It was then that it became official.

Eleanor would no longer be the only underage inhabitant living under Professor Kirke's roof.

Of course, she didn't really give a damn. She didn't care about a lot of things lately. She felt numb and that worried the elder inhabitants of the Kirke household, but of course, they knew there was nothing they could do about it.


	4. I don't want to meet the Pensives

**I don't want to meet the Pensives**

The day before the newcomers' arrival finally came around. Missus Macready was preparing her things to do the groceries when she found Ella lazily raiding the kitchen cupboards for a cup. She knew there was someone else in the kitchen, but she paid them no mind as she went to pour herself some lemonade.

"You should come with me, tomorrow," Missus Macready said softly, watching the girl.

Ella stared at her glass cup for a moment before blankly looking up at the woman. "Where?"

"To the train station."

"Why?"

It had been this way for a while now. When Ella asked questions, it would only be one word, even when she was asked some in return. She would reply with either a yes, a no, or a maybe.

"To pick them up, of course."

Finally, she showed a hint of emotion as she stared at the woman with a questioning gaze. She finished the bit of lemonade she had poured herself then put the glass in the sink before turning to Missus Macready. "Who?"

Missus Macready sighed. "The Pevensie children."

Ella narrowed her eyes slightly as she straightened her posture. "I don't want to meet the Pensives." It had barely been audible, but at least the woman heard, and that was good enough for Ella as she gracefully whisked her way out of the room.

Missus Macready sighed again. "It's the Pevensies," she said, but of course Ella was no longer there to hear the correction. _At least this time she said more than one word_, she thought before grabbing her coat and making her way to the door.

The next morning, when Missus Macready left to pick up the guests, Ella wasn't in her room like she had been expected to be. She had walked down the rarely visited hallway till she stood in front of _the_ door. The door that led to the wardrobe, which was dustily covered inside the spare room. She stepped forward and placed a hand on the doorknob but didn't open it. She simply stood there, like that, head now pressed against the wooden door as she shut her eyes and let out a sigh. She stayed that way for a while before letting out a loud groan and slamming her head purposefully against the wooden entry.

"I can't take this anymore!" she shouted at nothing before stepping away from the door, turning on her heels and running for the stairs. She needed to leave the house. She needed to leave that slight countryside...

She needed to enroll.

* * *

Bobbies waved traffic around a crater as firemen hosed a smoldering building. The Pevensie family walked through the crowded Trafalgar Square, the children carrying their suitcases and gas-mask boxes. Lucy stopped suddenly, staring up at a giant bronze lion.

"Come on, Lucy. No time for daydreaming," Susan said softly, pulling Lucy on her way as a train whistle shrieked, not too far ahead of them.

The train station in North London was packed, due to the evacuation. Everyone was slightly hustling against each other. Hundreds of children were saying goodbye to their families on the platform, bags and prized belonging lying stacked all around.

_"Alms for the poor. Alms for the poor."_

_"Hurry, this way!"_

_"God bless you, sir."_

_"Children and evacuation staff... Attention, would all parents ensure that their children have the appropriate identification papers,"_ said the announcer.

There was a poster of a destitute family that read:

**_HELP THE CITY CHILDREN. HOUSING EVACUEES IS A NATIONAL SERVICE!_**

Lucy stared glumly up at it as her mother, who was wearing a WVS uniform, pinned her name and destination to her coat.

Sighing, Missus Pevensie placed a gray bonnet on the little girl's head. "You need to keep this on, darling. All right? You warm enough? Good girl."

_"Say hello to Auntie Laura. Goodbye, darling, we love you,"_ they heard one of the other evacuees say, bidding their farewells to their mothers as well.

Edmund, grouchy as usual, glared around. "If Dad were here, he wouldn't make us go."

"If Dad were here, it'd mean the war was over, and we wouldn't have to go," Peter deadpanned.

Sighing once more, Missus Pevensie pursed her lips as she took a long, sad look at her children before turning to her youngest son to pin a label onto his coat. "You will be good and listen to your brother, won't you Edmund?" She tried to hug him, but Edmund turned away. She sadly settled for kissing his cheek before turning to Peter to whom she handed a sheaf of documents.

"It's not for very long," she said, pulling him into a hug. "Promise me you'll look after the others."

Peter gave her a small smile and nodded as they pulled apart. "I will, Mum."

Missus Pevensie smiled and nodded as well, patting her son's cheek. "Good man."

_"All aboard! All aboard!"_

_"Bye, darling! Bye!"_

Missus Pevensie turned to Susan and smiled tearfully. "Be a big girl." Susan nodded and hugged her mother who squeezed her gently before letting go. She turned to hug Lucy and Peter goodbye once more, though when it came to Edmund, he refused to meet her eye, stifling a tear as she sighed and slightly pushed her children toward the train. "There now, off you go."

_"Hold on to your brother's hand. Don't let it go."_

"All right. Off you go," Missus Pevensie repeated.

_"All aboard!"_

_"Bye-bye. Love you."_

Edmund looked at Susan, who had grabbed him, and glared. "Hey, get off. I know how to get on a train by myself. Get off me!"

"May I have your tickets, please?" a woman standing by the train asked them. "Tickets, please."

"Peter. "Susan snatched papers off him and gave them to the woman.

The woman nodded in approval. "That's right. On you go." She then scurried them off.

Peter nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Come along. Come along this way, please," said a man.

Peter gave Lucy a small smile. "Come on Lucy; we've got to stick together now. Everything's gonna be all right. It's gonna be fine... it's gonna be fine."

Edmund tried to glimpse his mother in the crowd. Suddenly, he bolted.

Susan saw him and panicked. "Edmund!"

Edmund dashed past the guard and into his mother's arms. He gave her a tight squeeze and then scampered onto the train with his siblings. They felt themselves sadden a bit more as they heard other children calling out to their mothers: "Bye, Mommy! I love you!"

The children hung out of the window as their mother pushed her way to the front of the barrier. They waved to each other calling out their farewells.

"Bye-bye, dear," Missus Pevensie said, tearing up.

"Bye, Mum. We'll miss you! See you soon," Peter said.

"Bye!" Susan called out.

"We'll miss you!" Edmund said.

"Write to us, Mum!" said Peter.

"Love you!" Lucy said.

A whistle screamed as the train eased out of the station, its pace quickening every five seconds, and before they all knew it, they were off.

The engine chugged past bombed factories and anti-aircraft guns as it entered a tunnel. It was a long ride; slow and slightly boring as it chugged down the railway.

The train emerged from the tunnel into the countryside. Inside the train, in a compartment, Lucy sat by the window across from Edmund. Her feet did not quite reach the floor, so Peter took a suitcase down and propped it under her toes, causing her to smile as the train pulled into a station. Edmund watched from the window as two children were collected by somber foster parents. He swallowed, worried, as the train whistle shrieked anew and chugged down the train tracks one more.

A few more hours passed before the moment they had impatiently been waiting arrived.

"_Coombe Halt Station_," the conductor called out through the megaphone.

The four Pevensies grabbed their luggage and stepped out of the train, onto the platform. They waited there for quite a while, becoming slightly excited at one point when they heard a car coming and ran down to meet it, but it drove past them, leaving them upset again, and slightly disappointed.

"Shouldn't someone be here for us?" Lucy asked. She was the only one who didn't know who they were going to be staying with.

"The Professor knew we were coming," Susan said with a frown.

Edmund frowned as well, looking down at his name tag. "Perhaps we've been incorrectly labeled."

"Maybe he's forgotten us," Lucy suggested.

Not long after he said that, they heard a horse neighing. They looked up and saw a middle-aged lady sitting in an old-fashioned, motor-less buggy— a carriage— that was being pulled by a beautiful white mare.

"I wish he had," Edmund muttered as the woman approached.

"Come on, hup! And whoa. Whoa," she said, pulling the horse up by the platform.

Peter hesitated. "Missus Macready?"

She looked at each child from behind her rectangle spectacles. "I'm afraid so…" she said, shifting her gaze to their belongings. "Is this it, then? Haven't you brought anything else?"

"No, ma'am. It's just us," Peter replied.

Missus Macready raised her brows in slight amusement. "Small favors." She motioned them towards the back of the cart, and they immediately scurried, climbing onto the back of the carriage.

Once they were settled, Missus Macready turned back to the mare and ushered the mammal forward. "Come on. Good girl. Come on. Come on."

The professor's house loomed through the trees, three stories of stone and stained glass, later that day. The children stared up from the rattling, horse-led buggy.

"I hope you all appreciate that this house is of great historic value. People come from all over England to view it," Missus Macready said. The buggy turned onto the tree-lined drive.

"Really? Why?" Susan asked curiously.

"It is in _all_ the guidebooks."

The moment they stepped into the mansion, Missus Macready wasted no time in listing the rules to the four children. A gnarled claw dug its sharp talons into a wooden sphere. Lucy stared at the ball-and-claw legs of an oak table, almost tripping over her own feet, as Missus Macready led them up the stairs.

"Professor Kirke is not accustomed to having children, other than his granddaughter, in this house. And as such, there are a few rules we need to follow. There will be no shouting. Or running. No improper use of the dumbwaiter."

Susan was about to touch an old, strange looking statuette while Edmund had reached out to touch a gleaming suit of armor, only to have his hand smacked away as Susan received a glare. "_No_ touching of the historical artifacts!" They stopped by a closed door, where the light flickered off behind it. "And above all, there shall be no disturbing of the professor, _nor_ his granddaughter."

_Granddaughter?_ Peter frowned, puzzled. _Mum never told us about the Professor having children, even less a granddaughter._ As soon as he thought this, a loud _SLAM!_ came from outside.

"Don't you dare walk away from— Eleanor? Eleanor, get back here!" they heard a woman shout. Not long after, the front door of the mansion burst open, and a furious girl stormed in, followed by a woman who seemed to be in her mid-twenties, scurrying not far behind her. "Elea—"

The girl spun on her heels and glared at the woman. "Don't you dare finish that," she glowered. Despite her voice being so low, at that moment, and sounding so dark, it still sounded more like golden wind chimes.

The woman sighed. "Fine, but just listen, will you? You promised your brother—"

"I promised nothing. I said I'd stop, but I never promised it. If I did, I wouldn't have gone."

"Well, you better stop for good! Do you want them to take you? Do you—"

"Yes! Why the heck _do_ you think I tried to enroll for the fifteenth time?" Ella snapped.

The woman groaned, placing her hands on her hips. "First, you've got to stop hanging around Tommy."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Not my fault your brother was always around when he should've been at home. He's gone now— left with my sib, so you've got nothing to complain about, Chris."

The woman clenched her jaw. "It's Chris_tina_. And second, you've got to stop trying to get yourself into the army."

The Pevensie children couldn't help but stare in shock at the young girl who was being scolded at the entrance of the mansion. Did this girl seriously try to enroll into the army?

Missus Macready sighed and shook her head. _Not again_, she thought.

Ella let out an exasperated breath through her nose. "But it's not fair!" she shouted before sprinting her way up the stairs, ignoring the many pairs of eyes set upon her, and toward her room, where she slammed her door shut the moment she stepped into it.

The moment that followed was filled with silence. No one dared to talk.

Finally, Christina Jameson, Tommy's older sister, sighed and looked up at Missus Macready with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, ma'am."

Missus Macready shook her head. "It's alright, at least they didn't send for her brother this time."

Christina shrugged. "They were about to. Let's just say we're lucky I was in the right place, at the right time."

"They sent you back?"

Christina shook her head. "Temporary leave. This conflict is reaching a critical point; we're in need of more soldiers."

Missus Macready nodded in understanding then hesitated. "Did she...?"

"Throw her usual tantrum? Worse." Christina shuddered as she recalled the earlier events. "She made herself a make-shift bow in half an hour, broke a stick, and then shot it to prove she had good aim. She also tried the many weapons that were on display, and disassembled most, each in eleven seconds tops. In the end, she almost blew up the establishment... she's very gifted. But they still don't think it's a place for a sixteen-year-old, let alone a girl, to be there," Christina replied, her voice becoming slightly bitter toward the end.

She was now starting to see why Ella was so infuriated. Men were being so sexist— women can fight just as well. Heck, she enrolled a while back as well. She was lucky to get accepted, though she wasn't placed in the field she wanted to be in. They put her in a supposedly top-secret government agency. She didn't complain much as she actually loved science, and that's what she did in that agency, but she did want to go to the field. She still somewhat does. Unfortunately, it can't be changed.

"How exactly did you manage to get her out of there without a severe penalty from the feds?" Missus Macready wondered, eying the young woman curiously.

Christina chuckled softly, exhaustion apparent in her eyes. "Let's just say we're lucky Lieutenant Jaubert has taken a liking to us," she said, referring to herself, her brother and the Kirkes' in general. Shaking her head to herself, she sighed and smiled at them all. "I'd better go before they send someone else."

Missus Macready nodded. "Of course, stay safe."

Christina nodded. "And you take care." She started for the door, but then stopped and turned to look back at the elderly woman with a serious look on her face. "Oh, and please see that whenever she leaves she is being supervised. We can't afford having her run off to try to get into the army again. Not at times like these."

"I will make sure of that. Good day, Miss Jameson."

Christina smiled once more and nodded. "Good day, Missus Macready." She smiled at the Pevensies and slightly waved. "Good day, children." And with that, she was off.

Once she was gone, Peter, Susan, and Edmund followed Missus Macready down the hall while Lucy lingered behind, eyeing the closed door they had stopped by, curiously. Suddenly, a shadow moved under the door. Eyes widening, Lucy dashed away.

Later that night, three siblings loitered in the room given to the two Pevensie girls. Lucy laid under the covers, a tiny girl in a large bed.

"This bed's too big," she mumbled.

Peter chuckled and ruffled her hair. "You sure you haven't shrunk?" Lucy smiled, despite herself.

In the next bed, Susan tucked herself in. "The Professor's just not used to having kids around."

"Supposedly," Peter said. "But in case you've forgotten, Missus Macready mentioned he has a granddaughter. And I doubt she is any older than us; it was probably that girl who was all... fast and furious."

"She looked pretty," Susan said, sending a pointed look at her older brother who tried to fight back a blush.

Lucy hugged her pillow. "I still miss Mum."

Edmund then entered, carrying a plate. "Well, if you're homesick, go stand outside the Macready's door. She snores like an air raid siren." Lucy giggled as Edmund put down the plate filled with biscuits. "The pantry's a gold mine."

"We've fallen on our feet and no mistake," said Peter. "This is going to be perfectly splendid. That old chap will let us do anything we like."

"I think he's an old dear," said Susan.

"Oh, come off it!" said Edmund, who was tired and pretending not to be tired, which always made him bad-tempered. "Don't go on talking like that."

"Like what?" said Susan; "and anyway, isn't time you were in bed?" Susan asked sternly.

"Yes, MUM!" Edmund exclaimed sarcastically before glaring at his older sister. "Who are you to say when I'm to go to bed? Go to bed yourself."

"Ed!" Peter glared at his brother, though his intervention went ignored by both Edmund and Susan.

"I am in bed," Susan deadpanned cheekily. Defeated, Edmund scowled at her.

"Hadn't we all better go to bed?" said Lucy, trying to ease the tension with reason. "There's sure to be a row if we're heard talking here."

"No there won't," said Peter. "I tell you this is the sort of house where no one's going to mind what we do. Anyway, they won't hear us. It's about ten minutes' walk from here down to that dining-room, and any amount of stairs and passages in between."

"What's that noise?" said Lucy suddenly. It was a far larger house than she had ever been in before and the thought of all those long passages and rows of doors leading into empty rooms was beginning to make her feel a little creepy.

"It's only a bird, silly," said Edmund.

"It's an owl," said Peter. He turned to look at his little sister, his gaze soft.

He took a biscuit and gave it to her. "This is going to be a wonderful place for birds. I shall go to bed now, but tell you what. Tomorrow, we'll go outside and explore. You might find anything in a place like this. Did you see those mountains as we came along? And the woods? There might be eagles. There might be stags. There'll be hawks."

"Badgers!" said Lucy.

"Foxes!" said Edmund.

"Rabbits!" said Susan.

They all shared a small halfhearted laugh.

"It'll be great," Peter concluded, before smiling at his littlest sister again and ruffling her hair. "I promise."

* * *

_Knock, knock._

Ella sat at her window seat, staring out the beautifully framed see-through glass at the woods. She had heard the soft knock on her door, but she had chosen to ignore it. But then, there it was again.

_Knock, knock._

Sighing, she got up from her seat and lazily made her way to the exit of her room. Opening the door just a crack, she murmured a small "yes?" not bothering to speak any louder as she knew she was clearly heard.

"They're still awake, you know," Missus Macready said, holding a dimly lit candle in one hand, and a book in the other.

"And?"

"I thought you'd like to meet them. It'd do you some good to interact with others your age," Missus Macready tried to encourage softly.

Ella was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed as they looked down at the golden doorknob.

"I already told you," she mumbled. "I don't want to meet the Pensives." And with that said, she shut her door, making Missus Macready sigh.

"It's the _Pevensies_."


	5. A wardrobe, a lamp-post and a Faun?

**A wardrobe, a lamp-post and a... Faun?**

It was their first morning there at Professor Kirke's mansion. They had hoped they could at least have a little fun in their new environment; unfortunately, it was raining outside, so they couldn't go out as they had previously planned. The rain was so thick that when you looked out of the window, you could see neither the mountains nor the woods nor even the stream in the garden.

"Of course it would be raining!" said Edmund. They were on their way to the dining room to eat breakfast.

"Do stop grumbling, Ed," said Susan. "Ten to one it'll clear up in an hour or so. And in the meantime, we're pretty well off. There're lots of books."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Yes, because they're soooo much fun!" he exclaimed sarcastically as the four of them walked into the dining room.

The Pevensies sat at the dining table, helping themselves to the surprisingly delicious breakfast Missus Macready had made them. It was quiet as it was only the four children and the care-taker; Professor Kirke hadn't come down yet, nor had his granddaughter.

A few minutes passed, and the old man finally came down, grabbing the newspaper from the small table at the entrance of the dining room on his way through. Ella must have already finished reading it. But then, where was she? A small greeting was shared between the children and the Professor before he took his usual seat at one end of the table and helped himself to some breakfast as well.

The silence lingered a bit more before the lightest footsteps resonated from the staircase, barely audible. A second ticked by before the door opened and the four Pevensies stopped eating as a dark-haired beauty glided ever so gracefully into the room. The Professor, though surprised, instantly put his newspaper down, ready to greet his granddaughter whom he hadn't seen or heard much from in the last month. To his saddened disapproval though, she soared her way past the table, without sparing either of her fellow inhabitants a glance, and went straight for the kitchen, closing the door behind her with a soft _click_.

No one said anything as they were all quite shocked about this action, the Pevensie children more so than Missus Macready and Professor Kirke as it wasn't anything unusual from Ella. They all finished eating and left to wander around, Missus Macready leaving the house while Professor Kirke went to his study.

After making sure no one was left in the dining room, Ella slipped out of the kitchen. Closing the door as quietly as possible, just in case someone was still around, she spun on her heels before sprinting through the room, then up the stairs, thanking God that Missus Macready was out buying groceries again, and ran to her room. Once she shut the door behind her, she skipped— literally— over to her wardrobe and brought out a new outfit she made herself; she's had a lot of spare time.

She slipped off her dark blue, knee-length dress and put on a pair of tight black jodhpurs, a large dark green-khaki blouse, one of Charles' old black blazers, and a pair of black, knee-length boots she may or may not have snatched from the establishment where the soldier recruitment took place. Grabbing her personally handcrafted bow and arrows, and sword she may or may not have borrowed from a Bronze Age fair with no intention of returning it, she made her way to her window and slid it open, wide enough to climb out and stand out on the edge.

Subconsciously clenching her teeth as she concentrated, she took a step into empty air. The ground seemed to move toward her so slowly that it was nothing at all to place her feet exactly right so that landing was no different than stepping one foot forward on a flat surface. She absorbed the impact in the balls of her feet. Her landing was quiet, though it shouldn't have been considering the fact that the jump was about three stories high. Though for her, that was nothing. She was used to it. Ignoring the pouring rain, she ran forward, disappearing within the tree shadows.

* * *

The Pevensies weren't so sure how to spend their time; the rain was still pounding beads outside, and there weren't actually any board or card games for them to play with. They were upstairs in the room Professor Kirke had set apart for them— a long, low room with two windows looking out in one direction and two in another.

Susan, being the most "creative," opted for a guessing game. She grabbed an enormous book, which ended being a dictionary, and settled in a two-seated sofa. Peter went for the armchair right beside it while Lucy sat at the window seat, staring out at the woods in awe; she was watching an older beautiful girl shoot arrows, in the rain, at wooden targets, making perfect, graceful bull's-eyes while riding a beautiful raven-haired horse.

She knew who the girl was, she recognized her from the previous night and the nearly passed morning, and though the girl seemed very cold and reserved, Lucy could not help but feel some sort of admiration toward her. The girl must have gone through a lot to want to join the army; not everyone would want to do that.

Edmund was really in a whole other level of boredom. He lay on the floor, his fingers fiddling with a chair that was placed beside Peter's armchair.

"'Gastrovascular,'" said Susan. She looked up at Peter and frowned. "Come on, Peter. Gastrovascular."

Peter sighed out of boredom. "Is it Latin?"

Susan nodded. "Yes."

"Is it Latin for 'worst game ever invented'?" Edmund asked, causing Peter to chuckle and Susan to slam the book in irritation.

Reluctantly pulling her gaze from the window, Lucy got up and walked over to her siblings. "We could play hide-and-seek!" she suggested.

Peter sighed. "But we're already having so much fun," Peter said sarcastically, earning himself a glare from his other sister.

"Come on Peter, please!" she pleaded with a pout. "Pretty please?"

Peter stared at her for a moment before starting to smile. "One, two, three, four..." he started, causing Lucy's pout to turn into a full-blown grin as she turned and ran off, happily.

"What?!" Edmund complained, but stood up all the same and ran in another direction as his sisters were already gone.

* * *

Ella climbed up the few stone steps to the entrance of the mansion, body soaking wet from head to toe. The second she entered the house and closed the door behind her, she could hear a voice she easily distinguished as belonging to the eldest of the newcomers. Her usually blank expression turned into a frown full of confusion when she noticed he was counting.

"... five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven..."

_What on earth are they doing?_ she wondered before shaking her head, dismissing it. Taking a deep breath, she decided to take a short-cut to her room as she was sure the children were running all around upstairs.

Lucy went to hide behind a curtain, but Edmund ran up and pushed her out. "I was here first!"

Slightly pouting, Lucy spun on her heels and ran in another direction. She ran up and down the stairs, though, eventually came to an inevitable stop when she bumped into someone, causing her to fall back, her rear hitting the wooden floor.

"Ow," she mumbled before looking up, only to feel her breath get caught up in her throat when she saw the girl she had previously been watching from the window, staring down at her with a blank expression on her beautiful face.

"Sorry," the little girl squeaked. "It's just that we're playing hide-and-seek, and I have to find a place to hide, quickly, before my brother finds me..."

The girl continued to babble aimlessly, though she eventually stopped and found herself fighting back a smile when she noticed the girl's lips slightly twitch upward. She held a hand out to Lucy, who gratefully took it, and helped her up.

"Just don't get lost." Her voice was just as Lucy remembered it, like golden wind chimes, though unlike last time, when it was low and dark, it was soft and comforting. As beautiful as music.

After saying that, she walked past the youngest Pevensie, but not before calling over her shoulder, "You can find a hiding place on the last floor. No one goes there, so I doubt your brother would think of looking there. But mind you, be careful of _where_ you snoop. Have fun." And with that, she gracefully whisked down the hall, out of sight.

Smiling to herself, Lucy turned around and continued to look for a hiding place on the floor she was in before finally deciding to go to the last one, as Ella had suggested.

"... seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven..."

She ran and ran until she finally came upon an underused door. Entering the _spare_ room, she tilted her head to the side in curiosity when she saw a large white, dusty sheet draped around what appeared to be a movable. She stepped forward, grabbed an end of the drape, and pulled it off

"... eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight... eighty-nine, ninety. Ninety-one..."

But Lucy's mind was no longer in the game.

Her eyes and mind were stuck on... one big wardrobe; the sort that has a looking-glass in the door. There was nothing else in the room at all except a dead blue-bottle on the window-sill and the dusty sheet Lucy had pulled off the movable.

"... ninety-two, ninety-three..."

She glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip hesitantly as she looked back toward the wardrobe. She thought it would be worthwhile at least trying the door of the wardrobe, even though she felt almost sure that it would be locked. To her surprise, it opened quite easily, and two moth-balls dropped out.

"... ninety-five, ninety-six..."

Looking into the inside, she saw several coats hanging up— mostly long fur coats. There was nothing Lucy liked as much as the smell and feel of fur. She immediately stepped into the wardrobe and got in among the coats and rubbed her face against them, leaving the door open, of course, because she knew that it is very foolish to shut oneself into any wardrobe. Soon she went further in and found that there was a second row of coats hanging up behind the first one. It was almost quite dark in there and she kept her arms stretched out in front of her so as not to bump her face into the back of the wardrobe. She took a step further in - then two or three steps always expecting to feel woodwork against the tips of her fingers. But she could not feel it.

_This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!_ thought Lucy, going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her. Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her feet. _I wonder, is that more mothballs?_ she thought, stooping down to feel it with her hand. But instead of feeling the hard, smooth wood of the floor of the wardrobe, she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold.

"This is very queer," she said and went on a step or two further.

Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even prickly.

"Why, it is just like branches of trees!" exclaimed Lucy.

And then she saw that there was a light ahead of her, but a few inches away where the back of the wardrobe ought to have been, but a long way off. Something cold and soft was falling on her. A moment later she found that she was standing in the middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air.

Lucy felt a little frightened, but she felt very inquisitive and excited as well. She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree trunks; she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out— she had, of course, left the door open, for she knew that it is a very silly thing to shut oneself into a wardrobe— It seemed to be still daylight there.

_I can always get back if anything goes wrong,_ thought Lucy.

She began to walk forward, crunch-crunch over the snow and through the wood towards the other light. In about ten minutes she reached it and found it was a lamp-post. As she stood looking at it, wondering why there was a lamp-post in the middle of a wood and wondering what to do next, she heard a pitter patter of feet coming towards her. And soon after that, a very strange person stepped out from among the trees into the light of the lamp-post.

He was only a little taller than Lucy herself and he carried over his head an umbrella, white with snow. From the waist upwards he was like a man, but his legs were shaped like a goat's— the hair on them was glossy black— and instead of feet, he had goat's hoofs. He also had a tail, but Lucy did not notice this at first because it was neatly caught up over the arm that held the umbrella so as to keep it from trailing in the snow.

He had a red woolen muffler round his neck and his skin was rather reddish too. He had a strange, but pleasant little face, with a short pointed beard and curly hair, and out of the hair there stuck two horns, one on each side of his forehead. One of his hands held the umbrella: in the other arm, he carried several brown-paper parcels. What with the parcels and the snow it looked just as if he had been doing his Christmas shopping.

He was... a Faun?

And when he saw Lucy he gave such a start of surprise that he dropped all his parcels.

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the Faun.

Lucy stared at him, for a moment, with wide eyes.

Then she screamed. Fortunately for both of them, her fright, surprise, and shock disappeared within seconds. Her scream died down and her plump lips curled up into a now excited smile. She wasn't exactly sure of what he was, but she knew without a doubt that he wasn't just any creature. She had, standing before her, a mythological creature. How could she not be excited by such a fact that should be impossible?

"GOOD EVENING," she said.

But the Faun was so busy picking up its parcels that at first, it did not reply. When it had finished it made her a little bow.

"Good evening, good evening," said the Faun before stammering to himself, "Uh, CH... ch.. child."

"Were you hiding from me?" she asked, motioning toward the trees where he had just come from.

"No. Uh, well," he stammered. "I just... I... No. No. I-I-I just... I was just, um... I didn't want to scare you."

Lucy tilted her head to the side. "If you don't mind my asking... what are you?"

"Well, I'm a..." He sighed. "Well, I'm a Faun. And what about you? You must be some kind of…beardless dwarf?"

Lucy blinked back in surprise. "I'm not a dwarf. I'm a girl! And, actually, I'm tallest in my class."

The Faun looked at her for a moment, hesitant and unsure. "Should I be right in thinking that you are a Daughter of Eve?"

"My Mum's name is Helen," said she, not quite understanding him.

"You are in fact Human?"

"Of course I'm human," said Lucy, still a little puzzled.

"To be sure, to be sure," said the Faun. "How stupid of me! But I've never seen a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve before... well; frankly you look very much like... Oh! But I am delighted. That is to say—" and then it stopped as if it had been going to say something it had not intended but had remembered in time. "Delighted, delighted," it went on. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus."

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy as she extended her hand. "I'm Lucy Pevensie."

Mister Tumnus stared at her hand in confusion. "... Oh, you shake it."

"Uh…why?"

Lucy shrugged. "I... I don't know. People do it when they meet each other."

Mister Tumnus shook her hand left to right. "Well, then, may I ask, O Lucy Pevensie Daughter of Eve," said Mister Tumnus, "What are you doing here?"

"I— I was hiding in the spare room, in..." said Lucy.

"Spare Oom? Is that in Narnia?"

"Narnia? What's that?" said Lucy.

"This is the land of Narnia," said the Faun, "where we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you— you have come from the wild woods of the west?"

"I got in through the wardrobe in the spare room," said Lucy.

"Ah!" said Mister Tumnus in a rather melancholy voice, "if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now.

"But they aren't countries at all," said Lucy, almost laughing. "It's only just back there— at least— I'm not sure. It is summer there."

"Meanwhile," said Mister Tumnus, "it is winter in Narnia, and has been forever so long, and we shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve from the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns around the bright city of War Drobe, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"

"Thank you very much, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy. "But I was wondering whether I ought to be getting back."

"It's only just 'round the corner," said the Faun, "and there'll be a roaring fire— and toast— and sardines— and cake."

"Well, it's very kind of you," said Lucy. "But I shan't be able to stay long."

"If you will take my arm, Daughter of Eve," said Mister Tumnus, "I shall be able to hold the umbrella over both of us. That's the way. Now— off we go."

And so Lucy found herself walking through the wood arm in arm with this strange creature as if they had known one another all their lives. For a moment, she couldn't help but wonder... had Ella known what was to be found beyond the wardrobe? She had, after all, suggested the last floor and made sure to point out to her to be aware of where she "snoops" as she had clearly emphasized. She made note to ask Mister Tumnus later.

They had not gone far before they came to a place where the ground became rough and there were rocks all about and little hills up and little hills down. At the bottom of one small valley, Mister Tumnus turned suddenly aside as if he were going to walk straight into an unusually large rock, but at the last moment, Lucy found he was leading her into the entrance of a cave. As soon as they were inside she found herself blinking in the light of a wood fire.

Then Mister Tumnus stooped and took a flaming piece of wood out of the fire with a neat little pair of tongs and lit a lamp. "Now we shan't be long," he said, and immediately put a kettle on.

Lucy thought she had never been in a nicer place. It was a little, dry, clean cave of reddish stone with a carpet on the floor and two little chairs— "one for me and one for a friend," said Mister Tumnus— and a table and a dresser and a mantelpiece over the fire and above that a picture of an old Faun with a grey beard. In one corner there was a door which Lucy thought must lead to Mister Tumnus' bedroom, and on one wall was a shelf full of books.

Lucy looked at these while he was setting out the tea things. They had titles like _The Life and Letters of Silenus_ or _Nymphs and Their Ways_ or _Men, Monks, and Gamekeepers_; a _Study in Popular Legend_ or _Is Man a Myth?_

"Now, Daughter of Eve!" said the Faun.

And really it was a wonderful tea. There was a nice brown egg, lightly boiled, for each of them, and then sardines on toast, and then buttered toast, and then toast with honey, and then a sugar-topped cake. And when Lucy was tired of eating the Faun began to talk. He had wonderful tales to tell of life in the forest. He told about the midnight dances and how the Nymphs who lived in the wells and the Dryads who lived in the trees came out to dance with the Fauns; about long hunting parties after the milk-white stag who could give you wishes if you caught him; about feasting and treasure-seeking with the wild Red Dwarfs in deep mines and caverns far beneath the forest floor; and then about summer when the woods were green and old Silenus on his fat donkey would come to visit them, and sometimes Bacchus himself, and then the streams would run with wine instead of water and the whole forest would give itself up to jollification for weeks on end.

"Not that it isn't always winter now," he added gloomily.

Then to cheer himself up he took out from its case on the dresser a strange little flute that looked as if it were made of straw and began to play. And the tune he played made Lucy want to cry and laugh and dance and go to sleep all at the same time.

It must have been hours later when she shook herself and said:

"Oh, Mister Tumnus— I'm so sorry to stop you, and I do love that tune— but really, I must go home. I only meant to stay for a few minutes."

"It's no good now, you know," said the Faun, laying down its flute and shaking its head at her very sorrowfully.

"No good?" said Lucy, jumping up and feeling rather frightened. "What do you mean? I've got to go home at once. The others will be wondering what has happened to me."

But a moment later she asked, "Mister Tumnus! Whatever is the matter?" for the Faun's brown eyes had filled with tears and then the tears began trickling down its cheeks, and soon they were running off the end of its nose, and at last, it covered its face with its hands and began to howl.

"Mister Tumnus! Mister Tumnus!" said Lucy in great distress. "Don't! Don't! What is the matter? Aren't you well? Dear Mister Tumnus, do tell me what is wrong."

But the Faun continued sobbing as if its heart would break. And even when Lucy went over and put her arms around him and lent him her handkerchief, he did not stop. He merely took the handkerchief and kept on using it, wringing it out with both hands whenever it got too wet to be any more use so that presently Lucy was standing in a damp patch.

"Mister Tumnus!" bawled Lucy in his ear, shaking him. "Do stop. Stop it at once! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a great big Faun like you. What on earth are you crying about?"

"Oh- oh- oh!" sobbed Mister Tumnus, "I'm crying because I'm such a bad Faun."

"I don't think you're a bad Faun at all," said Lucy. "I think you are a very good Faun. You are the nicest Faun I've ever met."

"Oh- oh- you wouldn't say that if you knew," replied Mister Tumnus between his sobs. "No, I'm a bad Faun. I don't suppose there ever was a worse Faun since the beginning of the world."

"But what have you done?" asked Lucy.

"My old father, now," said Mister Tumnus; "that's his picture over the mantelpiece. He would never have done a thing like this."

"A thing like what?" said Lucy.

"Like what I've done," said the Faun. "Taken service under the White Witch. That's what I am. I'm in the pay of the White Witch."

"The White Witch? Who is she?"

"Why, it is she that has got all Narnia under her thumb. It's she that makes it always winter. Always winter and never Christmas; think of that!"

"How awful!" said Lucy. "But what does she pay you for?"

"That's the worst of it," said Mister Tumnus with a deep groan. "I'm a kidnapper for her, that's what I am. Look at me, Daughter of Eve. Would you believe that I'm the sort of Faun to meet a poor innocent child in the wood, one that had never done me any harm, and pretend to be friendly with it, and invite it home to my cave, all for the sake of lulling it asleep and then handing it over to the White Witch?"

"No," said Lucy. "I'm sure you wouldn't do anything of the sort."

"But I have," said the Faun.

"Well," said Lucy rather slowly— for she wanted to be truthful and yet not be too hard on him. "Well, that was pretty bad. But you're so sorry for it that I'm sure you will never do it again."

"Daughter of Eve, don't you understand?" said the Faun. "It isn't something I have done. I'm doing it now, this very moment."

"What do you mean?" cried Lucy, turning very white.

"You are the child," said Tumnus. "I had orders from the White Witch that if ever I saw a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve in the wood, I was to catch them and hand them over to her. And you are the first I've ever met. And I've pretended to be your friend an asked you to tea, and all the time I've been meaning to wait till you were asleep and then go and tell Her."

"Oh, but you won't, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy. "You won't, will you? Indeed, indeed you really mustn't."

"And if I don't," said he, beginning to cry again. "She's sure to find out. And she'll have my tail cut off and my horns sawn off, and my beard plucked out, and she'll wave her wand over my beautiful clove hoofs and turn them into horrid solid hoofs like wretched horse's. And if she is extra and especially angry she'll turn me into stone and I shall be only the statue of a Faun in her horrible house until the five thrones at Cair Paravel are filled and goodness knows when that will happen, or whether it will ever happen at all. And to top it all off, I'm sure the Princess will hate me when word of this gets to her!"

Lucy was now puzzled once more. "The Princess? What's her name?"

The Faun gave her a shocked look. "You do not know Princess Ella?"

"Princess... _Ella_?" Lucy's brows furrowed. Why did the name sound familiar?

"Why yes, the daughter of one of the three daughters of the Great King. Alas, she knows him and of him, but not about her relation to him. Though she has just as much power, whether she knows so or not, _I_ would not know so myself. It will be a great pain, knowing she will hate me for what I've done."

"I'm very sorry, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy. "But please let me go home."

"Of course I will," said the Faun. "Of course I've got to. I see that now. I hadn't known what Humans were like before I met you. Of course, I can't give you up to the Witch; not now that I know you. But we must be off at once. I'll see you back to the lamp-post. I suppose you can find your own way from there back to Spare Oom and War Drobe?"

"I'm sure I can," said Lucy.

"We must go as quietly as we can," said Mister Tumnus. "The whole wood is full of her spies. Even some of the trees are on her side."

They both got up and left the tea things on the table, and Mister Tumnus once more put up his umbrella and gave Lucy his arm, and they went out into the snow. The journey back was not at all like the journey to the Faun's cave; they stole along as quickly as they could, without speaking a word, and Mister Tumnus kept to the darkest places. Lucy was relieved when they reached the lamp-post again.

"Do you know your way from here, Daughter o Eve?" said Tumnus.

Lucy looked very hard between the trees and could just see in the distance a patch of light that looked like daylight. "Yes," she said, "I can see the wardrobe door."

"Then be off home as quick as you can," said the Faun, "and— c-can you ever forgive me for what meant to do?"

"Why, of course, I can," said Lucy, shaking him heartily by the hand. "And I do hope you won't get into dreadful trouble on my account."

"Farewell, Daughter of Eve," said he. "Perhaps I may keep the handkerchief?"

"Rather!" said Lucy, and then ran towards the far-off patch of daylight as quickly as her legs would carry her.

And presently instead of rough branch brushing past her she felt coats, and instead of crunching snow under her feet she felt the wooden board and all at once she found herself jumping out of the wardrobe into the same empty room from which the whole adventure had started. She shut the wardrobe door tightly behind her and looked around, panting for breath. It was still raining, and she could hear the voices of the others in the passage.

"I'm here!" she shouted. "I'm here. I've come back I'm all right."


	6. Like a ghost

**Like a ghost**

Lucy ran out of the empty room, into the passage, and found the other three.

"It's alright," she repeated, "I've come back."

* * *

Ella stood at the feet of her bed, staring down at the gown she'd worn the last time she'd been _home_.

She was eleven the last time she'd been standing beside the Great King in Cair Paravel; she had been officially crowned a princess, though she never paid her title any mind. Since the first time she'd been there, she learned how to fight; ever since, she'd seen herself as a warrior rather than a princess.

She sighed as she sat beside the gown and began to absentmindedly fiddle with the skirts of the dress. Her head snapped up as her ears finally caught voices arguing from the room above. She raised her eyebrows as she looked up at the ceiling; she'd expected Lucy to find _the_ room, but not the others to be there too. At least not yet.

* * *

"What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?" asked Susan.

"Why?" said Lucy in amazement, "haven't you all been wondering where I was?"

"So you've been hiding, have you?" said Peter. "Poor old Lu, hiding and nobody noticed! You'll have to hide longer than that if you want people to start looking for you."

"But I've been away for hours and hours," said Lucy.

The others all stared at one another.

"What do you mean, Lu?" asked Peter.

"What I said," answered Lucy. "It was just after breakfast when I went into the wardrobe, and I've been away for hours and hours and had tea, and all sorts of things have happened."

"Don't be silly, Lucy," said Susan. "We've only just come out of that room a moment ago, and you were there then."

* * *

Once again, all emotion left Ella's face as she stood, grabbing the gown and hanging it back at the far back of her wardrobe. She walked over to her wooden vanity dresser, where a slightly old yet elegant-looking wooden case was. She looked down at it and hesitantly reached for it, hand retracting multiple times before finally reaching the lid.

"_She's not being silly at all_," said Peter, "_she's just making up a story for fun, aren't you, Lu? And why shouldn't she?_"

"_No, Peter, I'm not,_" she said. "_It's— it's a magic wardrobe. There's a wood inside it, and it's snowing, and there's a Faun and a Witch and it's called Narnia; come and see._"

Groaning, Ella pulled her hand away from the box, grabbed a bag she had left lying on the ground beside her vanity dresser and walked out of her bedroom. She knew that whatever was about to happen next with the 'Pensives' was not going to end well at all.

* * *

The others did not know what to think, but Lucy was so excited that they all went back with her into the room. She rushed ahead of them, flung open the door of the wardrobe and cried, "Now! Go in and see for yourselves."

Susan put her head inside and pulled the fur coats apart, "Lucy, the only wood in here is the back of the wardrobe."

Then everyone looked in and pulled the coats apart, and they all saw— Lucy herself saw— a perfectly ordinary wardrobe. There was no wood and no snow, only the back of the wardrobe, with hooks on it. Peter went in and rapped his knuckles on it to make sure that it was solid.

"A jolly good hoax, Lu," he said as he came out again; "you have really taken us in, I must admit. We half believed you."

"But it wasn't a hoax at all," said Lucy, "really and truly. It was all different a moment ago. Honestly, it was. I promise."

"Come, Lu," said Peter, "that's going a bit far. You've had your joke. Hadn't you better drop it now?"

"But I wasn't imagining!"

"That's enough, Lucy," Susan said firmly.

Lucy frowned. "I wouldn't lie about this!"

"Well, I believe you," Edmund spoke up in a serious manner, surprising them all.

Lucy blinked and looked at him with surprised, hopeful eyes. "You do?"

Edmund nodded. "Yeah, of course! Didn't I tell you about the football field in the bathroom cupboard?"

Peter sighed heavily through his nose and glared at Edmund. "Will you just stop? You just have to make everything worse, don't you?"

"It was just a joke!" Edmund said, rolling his eyes.

"When are you gonna learn to grow up?" Peter said in a slightly harsh tone.

Edmund's face heated up in anger. "Shut up!" he shouted. "You think you're Dad, but you're not!" And with that, he stormed out.

Susan sighed in exasperation. "Well, that was nicely handled!" And she followed Edmund out.

"But... it really was there," Lucy said in a small voice, causing Peter to sigh as well.

"Susan's right, Lucy. That's enough."

Lucy grew very red in the face and tried to say something, though she hardly knew what she was trying to say, and fell to her knees as she burst into tears the second Peter walked away.

"You shouldn't speak to her like that." A voice sounding as soft and melodic as golden wind chimes made Peter stop when he had reached the stairs. He turned around only to feel his breath get caught up in his throat when he saw the girl who'd been wandering around the household like a ghost, staring at him with a blank expression on her face.

Peter couldn't deny it; she was the most beautiful being he'd ever seen, and although her face was void of emotion, she looked like God had carved her himself.

She looked like a slightly exotic-looking angel.

She had pale russet skin, and dark brown hair, which could be believed to have once been a lighter shade as it now seemed to have lost its shine. He couldn't tell what color her eyes were as she was standing a bit far from him, but, from where he stood, they appeared to be a dull shade of dark brown, which were simply empty as they stared at him. The only bit of emotion he could catch was from the frown, glare, or scowl she seemed to be fighting back.

Unable to help himself, he let his eyes wander downward as he studied her. She wore a sleeveless, black, slightly asymmetrically hemmed waistcoat over a pretty, dark blue, smock dress, which had a sheer chiffon dotted overlay, a crocheted yoke and a softly-gathered skirt that fell at her knees; it showed off her perfectly toned legs, ankles, and feet, which were slipped into black high-heel pumps. Her dark hair, which was perfectly curled as the day before and earlier in the morning, fell a few inches past her shoulders.

"... kid." He looked back at her face, finally noticing her watching him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you done checking me out? I've been calling you seven times now."

Peter felt himself starting to blush in embarrassment. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Your name is Peter," she repeated, keeping her exasperation from showing in her voice. She had become quite an impatient person, though she was great at hiding it.

Peter nodded rapidly. "Yes, you— you're—"

"Eleanor, and though I would... _appreciate_ it if you didn't call me that, I didn't come here to introduce myself," she replied curtly. "I came here because I overheard what happened." He blinked, staring at her. "My room is right below."

"Sorry—"

"Stop apologizing. I'm not the one you wounded," she cut him off, glancing toward the door, slightly shifting some items Peter just realized she had brought along with her. There was a dark blanket peeking out of a bag that hung from her shoulder, along with a few other things he could not distinguish. In her hands, she held a paper bag by its opening, which was rolled close.

"She may be young, but you should know that sometimes the youngest know best when it comes to things like this."

"There was nothing but wood inside the wardrobe," he said.

"Do you really believe she would've made up something like that?" He did not reply. "She may be but a child, but that doesn't mean she was lying; if anything, children her age are the most honest of people on earth."

Peter glanced down at his feet for a moment before looking back up at her. "So, you're saying that you believe what she said."

The corner of her lips twitched. " The universe is full of... _magical_ things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper ." She shifted her gaze toward the door, which led to the spare room, where the youngest Pevensie was currently sobbing. " Children see magic because they look for it ."

She looked back toward Peter, eyes staring straight into his. "Those who don't believe in it will never find it ."

They were silent for a moment, the little girl's sobs still slightly audible.

"You didn't answer my question," Peter blurted out.

Ella's lips twitched again. " A... friend once told me, _'Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government and business' _. I may be an unusual girl; I'm sure you've noticed that by yourself when you saw me yesterday, but the only reason I did what I did many times is because I do not side with any government or any insensible business. I hope that answered your question, Pensive," she replied before turning and resuming her way.

Peter stood there for a moment, replaying her very subtly hint in her head, trying to make sense of everything she said. Did she believe Lucy? Was she trying to make him be at least sensible enough to apologize to his little sister? Then he realized: she called him Pensive.

What on earth...?

"Hey."

He looked up again, only to get something thrown his way. He breathed a sigh a relief when he caught it as he was usually not very good at catching anything, that's why he never did any sports in his school that involved catching balls or anything really. He looked down to see what he had caught and realized it was a paper bag, much like the one she was holding.

"There's some fresh lemonade in the refrigerator; it would taste better than milk with that. Make sure you take that to your room before you get some though, Macready doesn't like having anything too sweet in here. There's enough for you and the other two."

She turned to leave again, but Peter called out to her. "It's Pevensie." She looked at him over her shoulder and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, making him instantly react awkwardly. "It's... Pevensie... n-not… erm… Pensive..."

She turned to face him fully and stared at him for a moment. "I'm well aware of what is and what isn't," she suddenly said after a long moment of silence. "Pensive suits you more though; you're the kind who's too deep in a brown study."

And with that, she turned around and left the eldest Pevensie slightly stunned.

* * *

There was a soft knock on the door of the spare room, where Lucy was still on the ground, sniffling.

"You shouldn't sit on the floor, it's dirty. You'll get your stockings stained with dust." A familiar voice came from the doorway.

Lucy looked up and felt slightly better when she saw the older girl standing in the doorway, for once, her expression not blank, nor angry. Her eyes were soft, gaze somewhat tender as they stared down at her.

"Mind if I keep you company?"

Lucy blinked in surprise but did not refuse. The girl walked forward, slipping her bag off her shoulder and pulling a dark blanket out, which she expanded onto the wooden floor. She sat on it and padded the empty space beside her, which Lucy soon claimed.

"You're Lucy," said the girl, voice as soft as it had been the last time she had spoken to her, earlier that day.

Lucy nodded. "I-I know your name... but you don't seem to like it, so..."

The girl's lips twitched. "Call me Ella."

Lucy nodded again. She watched the older girl, with curious eyes, as she brought out a small towel and began to dab off the dust on her white stockings. When she was done with that, she brought out a blue handkerchief and wiped the remaining tears from Lucy's rosy cheeks.

"You're not wrong, you know." Lucy blinked, confused by what she'd just heard. "What you believe in."

Lucy looked at her for a moment. She did not want to be brought down as she had been with her siblings, so she went another way.

"Do you believe in magic?" she asked, her voice holding a hint a shyness, which made Ella want to smile. Though, of course, she did not.

Ella did not reply for a moment as she brought many snacks out of the paper bag, along with a glass bottle of what appeared to be lemonade and two empty cups.

"Everyone believes that every answer can be found within science," she began as she poured the lemonade in both cups. "That without books the development of civilization would have been impossible. But the thing is, where do all these books come from? They come from us, yes, but where do we come from?" Ella took a bite from one of the biscuits she'd brought and then took a sip from her lemonade.

"The logical answer would be: we come from earth. We come from Adam and Eve, or we are descendants of primates." Ella paused for a moment, blinking in slight surprise at herself. This was the first time she'd spoken so much in so long. It felt weird, but she shrugged it off.

"But where did all of _that_ come from? God. Yes. But how did he create us? He used his powers. Whatever he thought or believed he could do, he did. He began and finished it. Action has magic, grace, and power in it."

She looked back at Lucy, eyes finally twinkling with a bit of emotion.

Lucy looked at her for a moment, then giggled, taking a sip of her own juice. "Do you always speak so... philo— philosophically? In riddles?"

Ella's lips twitched as she shrugged. "They're not really riddles. It simply depends on who listens and if they're open-minded enough to understand what I say from many points of views before understanding my own."

"I like how you speak. It sounds very wise."

Ella let out a chuckle. "I don't usually sound this... _wise_. Or at least I don't think so."

"You don't speak much, do you?" Lucy asked. Ella shook her head. "That's probably why, then."

"Probably." Ella grabbed a sweet bread and began to nibble on it, looking down at her crossed legs.

"Ella." The latter looked up at the little girl sitting beside her and cocked her head to the side when she noticed the wondering look on her face. "Princess... Ella."

Ella found herself freeze at that. It wasn't that she was shocked that Lucy had found out about that, it was just that it had been so long since someone had called her that... speaking of which, she couldn't help but suddenly wonder how much time had passed _there_. It had been four years for her, there where she was, but back at her birthplace, decades must have passed.

"Do you know of Narnia?" Lucy asked, face as innocent as her voice, as she looked Ella.

"I know of it." And with that, she began to put everything away. Lucy looked at her as she looked at her; she wanted to ask more but refrained from doing so.

They walked in silence toward the exit, Ella right behind Lucy.

She reached backward, for the doorknob, to close the door, but before she did, she said, "Magic is believing in yourself, if you can do that, you can make anything happen, so don't stop believing."

She closed the door and made her way over to the stairs, leaving the youngest Pevensie glancing between her and the now closed door.

"I'd recommend you go to your room; Missus Macready doesn't like people loitering about when the maids are on duty."

And with that, she walked down the stairs, to her room, Lucy following right behind, making a beeline to her own room, which she shared with Susan.

For the next few days, Lucy was very miserable. The others who thought she was telling a lie, and a silly lie too, made her very unhappy. The two elder ones did this without meaning to do it, but Edmund could be spiteful, and on this occasion, he was so. He sneered and jeered at Lucy and kept on asking her if she'd found any other new countries in other cupboards all over the house. What made it worse was that these days ought to have been delightful. The weather was fine, and they were out of doors from morning to night, bathing, fishing, climbing trees, and lying in the heather. But Lucy could not properly enjoy any of it, so she opted for the first option she hadn't felt brave enough to go for.

She went to Ella.

At first, Ella was closed-up, reserved, despite the quite pleasantly civil conversation they'd had the day Lucy discovered Narnia. She would barely speak, only answering Lucy's questions with the shortest answers, but other than that, nothing. At least she listened to Lucy, and, for that, the latter was grateful. It'd taken a while, but Lucy finally managed to get Ella off the roof of the mansion (literally) and even got her to take her out with her when she went to shoot arrows. The way Ella moved when she went out to practice her fighting skills awed Lucy to no end. She was so graceful— it was as if magic itself was moving her.

She was fascinating, and Lucy was more than happy to have a new friend she could spend time with, and though Ella would never admit it out loud, she knew the latter considered her a friend as well. Though Lucy couldn't help but wonder, every so often, where Ella was off too when she wasn't with her, nor practicing her fighting skills, even less on the roof, her mind was set only on her goal. Her goal was to make Ella smile, but, so far, all she's had was the latter's lips twitching. Her eyes, though they gained a new shine to them every time they landed upon Lucy, remained empty, her face just as emotionless as always.

It all changed, though, four days after Lucy had had her first conversation with Ella.

It was the Pevensies' fifth morning at the Kirke mansion. Like their past four mornings, the Pevensies sat at the dining table, helping themselves to the delicious breakfast Missus Macready had made them. It was quiet as it was only the four children, the caretaker and the Professor, who had just come in and grabbed the newspaper from the small table at the entrance of the dining room on his way through. The now usual small greeting was shared between the children and the Professor before he took his usual seat at one end of the table and helped himself to some breakfast as well.

Ella hadn't come down yet... not that she ever did...

It was quiet as they ate, the sound of their forks and knives against their plates being the most audible sounds besides the slight noises resonating from all around of the mansion; the house was busier than usual as it was a Monday and the maids were in, making sure everything in the household was in order for the later hours when the Kirkes would be receiving their usual tourists, wishing for a tour of their fantastic home.

The slight silence lingered a bit more before the lightest footsteps resonated from the staircase, just like on their first day, barely audible. A second ticked by before the door opened and the four Pevensies stopped eating as a dark-haired beauty glided her way into the room.

The Professor was surprised, to say the least, and he instantly put his newspaper down, ready to greet his granddaughter whom he hadn't confronted yet. The first part of him that was shocked was so because she actually looked at him and nodded her greeting. The other part was because he hadn't seen his granddaughter dress like the actual girl she is in what seemed like forever.

He wasn't the only one shocked the latter thought. Lucy, who had been the only one to actually be in Ella's presence in the past few days had only actually seen the latter wearing a dress only once and that was when she came, trying to comfort her, was too; she mostly wore trousers as she'd spend most of her time out on the field practicing her archery skills and riding her horse.

Peter was also blown away; he, too, had only seen her once wearing a dress when she somewhat scolded him for making his little sister cry. The other two Pevensies were only slightly awed by her as they hadn't had the chance to see her up close; she would be _only_ with Lucy, or God knows where, alone.

The Professor and Missus Macready smiled in relief as the greeting did not stop just with the head of the house and the caretaker. The eldest Pevensie girl gave Ella a look of appraisal as she did not ignore them like she had since their first day there; she'd received a greeting nod like the Professor and Macready. Edmund and Peter found themselves blushing as she sent them a greeting nod as well. Of course, it wasn't because of the gesture, it was more the fact that a beautiful girl was _actually_ looking at them.

Lucy beamed, not really paying any mind to the soft gaze Ella sent her; she was too concentrated picturing Ella as a princess, wearing a crown, and that wasn't too hard as Ella had that majestic aura to her.

Even now, she had that slightly exotic yet entirely majestic look to her; her dark hair, which was usually in curls, now fell, in waves, a few inches past her shoulders, a beautiful Daisy fabric crown adorning her head. The latter hair accessory matched perfectly with the beautifully structured dress she was wearing, which was elegant and highly feminine with a sweetheart neckline underneath a layer of lace. It was clinched at her waist with a belt to create a flattering style and streamlined silhouette as it stopped a few inches above her knees; it showed off her perfectly toned legs, ankles, and feet, which were slipped into high-heel pumps that matched perfectly with her dress and fabric crown.

That only made the Pevensie boys blush harder and look away; it'd be rude to stare.

Ella soared her way over to the seat beside her grandfather but did not sit. She stood behind it and only reached over it to grab a biscuit; she loved those. Even the way she ate was elegant, Lucy noted as the older girl bit onto the snack in her hand. She chewed, then swallowed before looking over to the old man beside her.

"They're opening a _range_ on the outskirts of West End. I was wondering if you could possibly let me go, I've already finished the papers you had me do for the summer," Ella said, voice so low it was barely audible.

The Professor looked at his granddaughter. He knew her love for possibly every fighting style and weapon there was, but he could not comprehend her slight obsession with archery and sword fighting. Maybe it had something to do with where she came from...

"West End?" Professor Kirke asked, raising an eyebrow as he thought. Ella nodded, finishing her biscuit. He sighed, a hint of drama in the gesture. "The possibilities are as much as you eat, so it really depends on you."

Ella's eyes lit as her lips twitched. She nodded, paying no mind to the confused looks the Pevensie children sent their way, as she said, "Thank you," sitting down and beginning to eat.

Missus Macready looked at the girl in shock. She had thought of many possible ways to get the girl to _leave_ her room, to eat, to talk to people― never had she stopped to think that _that_ might work. Ella ate quietly, raising an eyebrow, slightly amused, every time Lucy, who sat beside her, looked at her and grinned. The little girl just wasn't going to give up, was she?

A few minutes had passed, all finishing up their morning meal, when, suddenly, the door of the dining room opened, revealing Amelia, one of the maids. She looked around the table, eyes lighting up when they fell upon Ella.

Amelia was seventeen, the youngest maid in the Kirke household. She didn't like working much as a maid, but when it came to doing that job in that house, she didn't mind at all. She had always had trouble gaining friends, so she had been more than ecstatic when Ella became hers and never missed a day of work; she'd spend the rest of her free time with Ella once she was finished with her duties before going home. Though Ella slowly drifted distant from everyone, including her, throughout the years, Amelia never ceased to see the latter as her friend.

The girl scurried over to her boss's granddaughter and leaned down to whisper in her ear. Her fork clattered onto her plate, and everyone watched as she blinked owlishly, eyes wide. She looked at the maid and murmured a question to her. Amelia nodded, eyes twinkling― she knew _this_ was sure to make her smile.

Ella wiped her hands and lips on her napkin before pushing her chair back and standing up.

"Excuse me," she mumbled before making her way out.

The Pevensies finished and somewhat silently asked if they could leave. After getting their answer, they stood and left to find whatever they could do. They left the dining room and stopped at the bottom of the staircase as they caught sight of Ella opening the large front door of the mansion.

"Mason?" she asked, slightly shivering at the cold breeze as she poked her head out, gazing over at the drive-through.

A young man, about a year older than her, was standing there, black hair creating a slight contrast against his slightly tanned skin. He was wearing a black coat over his gray suit, which Ella noticed seemed to be quite expensive. The young man shook his head, the few long strands of hair that covered his forehead in a slight masculine fringe flicking to the side as he looked up at her, midnight blue eyes squinting.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure. "... Ella?"

The girl's eye lit up as her face finally broke into a smile. "Mason!" she exclaimed, opening the door completely, unaware of the eyes set on her back.

The young man's lips spread into a full-blown grin as he looked at her, body straightening. "Ella!" He laughed in joy as they both ran to each other, Ella throwing her arms around his neck as he wrapped his own around her waist, picking her up and spinning her around, both _actually laughing_.

Mason Grant Hardy was Ella's best friend since childhood. Their parents had had the closest friendship anyone could ever have, resulting in both of them to develop a quite similar one. Mason and Ella were like two peas in a pod, partners in crime— they were inseparable, that is until Mason had to move away when they were ten. They stayed in contact, sending letters to each other; it was actually so that their writing improved over the years. It wasn't until three years later, in 37, that she had stopped writing to him— to anyone, really; she'd lost so much that the feeling of her losing more again only emphasized, as she grew older, to the point where she believed that distancing herself from everyone would save her the pain of loss. Then, there was also the fact that she couldn't return to Narnia.

Finally pulling away, they looked at each other, then both laughed again.

"I can't—"

"Believe it," Mason whispered.

"Me—"

"Either. But how—"

Ella's eyebrows raised. "Why are you whispering?" she whispered.

"Huh? Oh, right. Sorry. I'm just—"

"Surprised? Stunned? Feel like you've just survived being run over by a bus?"

"Yeah— wait, what?"

Ella laughed again. "Oh, I missed messing with you."

Mason rolled his eyes and playfully pushed her, gently. "Gee, thanks for welcoming me oh, so warmly," he replied sarcastically.

Ella rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "When did you get back?"

"A few weeks back. My father made some agreement, with the Professor, about sharing the land around the boarding house. I don't get the whole thing exactly, but since the ol' man's been ill for the past three days, he sent me to bring your granddad the papers to sign."

Ella's brows furrowed. She didn't know about that. "They're gonna share the land?"

Mason shrugged. "Just part of it, but the house is out of it, that's for sure. I think it's under your name for future inheritance."

"My name? What on earth...?"

Mason lifted his hands in mock surrender as the young girl gave him a look. "Don't look at me like that, I don't know anything."

"Yet you're the one bringing the papers." Ella frowned. "The barn is mine," she said stubbornly, causing Mason to chuckle.

"Alright, alright, it's yours, don't worry. I don't think the whole signing procedure is for today anyway. I think it's just for Professor Kirke to see it through and make his own judgment, and changes if so is necessary. They'll probably have to sign it together."

Ella nodded, reassured. "Amelia?" she called. The latter rushed from the dining room, which she had helped clear, over to the young brunets.

"Miss Ella." She nodded, a kind smile on her face before looking at Mason and nodding at him in greeting. "Mister Hardy."

Mason laughed. "Please, Mister Hardy's my father— call me Mason," he said with a smile.

"And how many times have I told you to just call me Ella," the brunette chimed, mirroring her best friend's smile.

The blonde girl blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologized.

Ella shook her head. "Don't apologize, Amy," she replied, gaining a grin from the blonde at the nickname as she hadn't called her that in quite a while. "Is my grandfather still in the dining room?"

Amelia shook her head. "No, he left for his study right after the Pevensies."

Ella thought for a moment, lips pursed before shrugging. "Well, can you tell him I'll be up to see him in a few moments, please?"

Amelia nodded and sent the pair one last smile before making her way back inside. She stopped when she reached the staircase, though, and couldn't help but giggle when she saw the Pevensies staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed in shock, at the entrance of the mansion, where the brunette they'd only ever seen expressionless was talking animatedly with the newcomer and laughing, a joyful musical sound that sounded like a chorus of bells. The only one who wasn't so dumbfounded, she noticed, was the youngest of the four, who was smiling.

Not much time passed before the conversation going on outside came to an end. Ella grabbed Mason's hand and literally dragged him inside, not once noticing the many pairs of eyes on her, which is quite unusual from her part; she usually notices everything from the tiniest speck of dust to one single leaf falling from a tree, yards away from her window.

She wasn't smiling anymore, but it was quite clear how happy she was as she dragged her long-lost best friend up the stairs to her grandfather's study.

The Pevensies watched as the pair went up, each one of them feeling somewhat different at the sudden change in the girl. Edmund's usual grouchiness downgraded into speechlessness, Susan's usually calm and gentle persona simply couldn't hide the surprise she felt. Peter was downright shocked; after the way she had spoken to him the other day— he never even dreamed there'd be a day when he would actually hear her laugh, or, even less, see her smile.

The smile on Lucy's face did not leave. "_The angel had fallen after losing her wings; losing sight of her shadow, she was no longer free._ _Joy, she did not know, would be what would save her, so she tried to move on and paid it no note. Time passed, it almost seemed impossible. Then she found her wings and just stared. Seconds passed, and the ghost finally laughed_."

The three older Pevensies looked down at the fourth as if she had grown a second head. She was only eight, how does she even know to speak so?

She looked up at them, smile turning into a sheepish grin as she shrugged. "Just because I don't spend all of my time with you three, it doesn't mean I spend it alone," she said, before skipping her way to the front door, to go outside. That seemed to snap the older three out of their thoughts as they followed her, throwing questions at her, but the little girl only smiled and waved them all off.

It seemed the reunited pair had spent hours talking after they had left the briefcase with the Professor. They had gone to the barn, with Amelia after a lot of insistence from Ella, had let the horses gallop around. Eventually, it had gotten quite late and the young maid had to go home, leaving the two best friends to walk, alone, in a comfortable silence.

"I often wish I were a horse," Ella suddenly said, finally breaking the quietude.

"That was weird and random," Mason said.

"Or a bird," Ella continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"That was too."

She turned to look at him. "Don't you want to be a bird?"

"No, I don't want to be a bird."

Ella frowned at him. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to be squashed by a car when I land on the ground."

This made the girl laugh. "You'd have to be a dumb bird to land where the cars pass... but, then again, _you_ wouldn't have to be a bird to be dumb."

Mason chuckled and rolled his eyes. "That was one time."

"That was still dumb of you." Ella laughed. "I mean, who runs in the middle of the road and just stands there, waiting for a buggy to come?"

"I was eight!"

"And dumb: 'I just want to know how painful a broken leg is'."

"A few days earlier, a legless man told me he couldn't remember how much it hurt when he lost his legs," Mason defended himself.

"What are you so defensive about? It was a dumb thing to do, just admit it."

Mason huffed. "Fine." They were silent for a moment, then both chuckled, reminiscing. Mason bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before looking over at the brunette. "Hey, wanna go to the theater?"

Ella looked up at him, biting her lip as she thought. "Nope."

"Aww, why not?"

"First, you gotta say you're a bird."

"No."

"Then, no."

"Ella..."

"Mason..."

"Seriously?"

She gave him a cheeky smile as she placed her hands on her best friend's shoulders. "Yes." She nodded. "Now, say you're a bird."

Mason sighed and shook his head, a small smile making its up onto his face as he placed his hands on her waist. "Fine, if you're a bird, I'm a bird." He looked into her eyes, noticing they weren't as dark as they were earlier anymore. "Happy?"

She nodded, stepping away from him. "I'll go tell Grandfather, then meet you back out here, okay?"

They saw Wuthering Heights, that night, Ella's first movie since Fabien had passed all those years ago. When she got home, she felt warm inside, not only from seeing Mason again after so long but, because, _after so long_, she felt happy.

The days passed, Ella left the house a lot more, spending most of her time with Mason and, of course, Amelia, whom she would somewhat force to tag along. They'd gone to Carnivals, parks, shooting ranges, the theater, and basically, anywhere they could have fun. Of course, her mysterious disappearances did not falter, but no one would get an answer when questioning her about it. Not even Lucy, whom she still, surprisingly, spent her time with as well. It was all going great... until Wednesday, two weeks later.

It was a little past mid-day, the weather not being in its best mood; the sky was gray and cloudy, and it was quite breezy for a summer day, though Mason did not take that as an excuse to miss out on visiting his best friend. He went over at the 'boarding house', as he and Ella often call it, and they spent their time in the main lounge, talking and simply enjoying each other's company; it was around five in the afternoon, when the doorbell rang.

Ella frowned. The visiting hours on Wednesdays ended at three o'clock, and the maids left at four, so who was at the door? She stood from where she sat on the divan with Mason and headed for the front door.

She really wasn't expecting who was standing on the other side of the door.

"Tommy?" Confusion would've been an understatement of what she felt.

Said man had been staring down at the ground as he waited for someone to open the door, but when he looked up, at the girl he wished wouldn't be the first to hear the news, he felt his heart drop.

Ella frowned; the man looked dreadful: blond hair disheveled, his once tanned skin pale with bruises of various shapes visible here and there, and his arm was in a sling.

"Oh, my— what happened to you?" she mumbled as she pulled him into a tight yet gentle hug, trying to avoid hurting him as much as possible.

"Ella..." he choked out, but she paid it no note.

She pulled back and looked at him confused. "Wait, why are you here? I get you're injured, but wouldn't they still make you stay? And where is Charles— is he alright?"

The man could only stare at her, broken expression on his face.

She gave him a cautious stare. "Tommy, where is Charles?"

"Ella—"

"Where is he?"

Thomas Jameson sighed as he reached into the pocket of his military jacket and brought out a letter, holding it out to her as Mason rushed over to them, along with Missus Macready and Professor Kirke, whom he had brought with him.

Eyes shifting warily between him and the letter, Ella grabbed the latter, ripped the envelop open and unfolded the letter, ignoring the several pairs of eyes on her.

_Dear Eleanor Kirke,_

_I was incredibly saddened to learn of the death of your brother, Charles Kirke. I am sure that your family must be going through a whole range of emotions right now, from being devastated to proud to angry, then back to devastated again._

_Knowing that he died while serving his country is supposed to bring you a little bit of comfort, and I hope it does. You know that Charles loved being in the British Navy, aiding the American's Pearl Harbor and that he was proud of what he was doing. While no armed services member wants to die in the line of duty, they all know it's a possibility, and it's a risk they're willing to take._

_That said, it's never easy on the ones they leave behind. All I can say is that you're perfectly entitled to whatever you're feeling, and you will help yourself if you feel all those emotions instead of trying to bury them. That's the only way you can truly begin to heal._

_I am around if you need anything at all. Please get in touch._

_With love,_

_Colonel Reynolds_.

And there it was again. That blank look the care-taker and the head of the house hoped would never appear again. But there it was.

She looked up at the man in front of her, face as emotionless as he'd remembered Charles saying it to often be.

"I'm glad you _didn't_ die," was all she said before spinning on her heels and running up the stairs. Along the way, she passed Lucy whose face lit up upon seeing her.

"Hey, Ell—"

But she could not even finish greeting her as the latter ran straight into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Lucy stared after her, eyes saddening. "_And the angel fell once more, into her own ghost who wouldn't, not couldn't, open the door_."

They all tried. For days.

Not even Mason or Amelia could at least get her to open the door to her room. She wouldn't leave. She wouldn't do anything besides the necessary, which is bathing (since every room has one, she is lucky so), and, though poorly, she would eat what little snacks she had in her room.

It wasn't until five days later that she came out of her room, but only to go to the lounge on her floor; rarely anyone went there. She walked over to the piano in the middle of the room, sat down on the bench and began to lazily play a few notes with her index finder before embarking into a symphony her latter brother had taught her as a child.

"It's been a while since you've played," said a voice from the door.

Her fingers faltered for a moment before resuming their previous rhythm. "I was going to come out sooner." Her voice was so quiet it was barely audible.

"Then why didn't you?"

Her fingers stopped, hovering over the keys. "Felt like I couldn't."

"Like you couldn't, or you just wouldn't."

She didn't reply at first as her grandfather sat beside her on the bench.

She sighed softly, closing her eyes as her fingers pressed onto the keys they'd been hovering over, lingering on the harmonized notes.

"Both, I guess," she replied softly.

"What changed your mind?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked down at the keys. "The fact that I can't change what happened, but, frankly, I don't want to spend the rest of my life being bitter and locked up."

The Professor smiled, though saddened as well by the recent events, content with her answer. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, motioning toward the instrument before them.

Ella's lips twitched. "Be my guest."

By the next day, she was feeling better, though, of course, it was no overnight recovery. That day, she spent it in her grandfather's library, reading a novel while listening to the Pevensie children, who were in the hallway, planning to play hide-and-seek.

Susan was "It" and as soon as the others scattered to hide, Lucy went to the room where the wardrobe was. She did not mean to hide in the wardrobe, because she knew that would only set the others talking again about the whole wretched business. But she did want to have one more look inside it; for by this time she was beginning to wonder herself whether Narnia and the Faun had not been a dream. The house was so large and complicated and full of hiding-places that she thought she would have time to have one look into the wardrobe and then hide somewhere else. But as soon as she reached it she heard steps in the passage outside, and then there was nothing for it but to jump into the wardrobe and hold the door closed behind her. She did not shut it properly because she knew that it is very silly to shut oneself into a wardrobe, even if it is not a magic one.

Now the steps she had heard were those of Edmund; and he came into the room just in time to see Lucy vanishing into the wardrobe. He at once decided to get into it himself— not because he thought it a particularly good place to hide but because he wanted to go on teasing her about her imaginary country. He opened the door. There were the coats hanging up as usual, and a smell of mothballs, and darkness and silence, and no sign of Lucy.

"She thinks I'm Susan come to catch her," said Edmund to himself, "and so she's keeping very quiet in at the back."

He jumped in and shut the door, forgetting what a very foolish thing this is to do. Then he began feeling about for Lucy in the dark. He had expected to find her in a few seconds and was very surprised when he did not. He decided to open the door again and let in some light. But he could not find the door either. He didn't like this at all and began groping wildly in every direction; he even shouted out, "Lucy! Lu! Where are you? I know you're here."

There was no answer and Edmund noticed that his own voice had a curious sound— not the sound you expect in a cupboard, but a kind of open-air sound. He also noticed that he was unexpectedly cold; then he saw a light.

"Thank goodness," said Edmund, "the door must have swung open of its own accord."

He forgot all about Lucy and went towards the light, which he thought was the open door of the wardrobe. But instead of finding himself stepping out into the spare room he found himself stepping out from the shadow of some thick dark fir trees into an open place in the middle of... a wood.


	7. Nothing is impossible

**Nothing is impossible**

This was impossible. He knew he must be dreaming, so instead of going on further, he ran out of the wardrobe and pretended that he never saw that. After all, it couldn't be real... right? When the game had finished and Lucy had come back, Edmund said nothing; he still couldn't shake what he had seen out of his head. Maybe he was becoming just as insane as Lucy?

Of course, her visits were not going to stop just then. That night, Lucy tossed and turned in her large bed, staring at the ceiling as she waited for Susan to fall asleep. An ominous rumbling soon filled the silence that had been surrounding her. Lucy sat up and looked over to see Susan snoring. Grinning, Lucy quietly slipped out of her bed. She eased out of her room, now wearing a pair of shoes and a raincoat. Carrying a candle, she sneaked away down the hall.

After a moment, a toilet flushed from behind a door. That door opened and Edmund stepped out sleepily, though the tiredness went away when he noticed Lucy wandering off at the far end of the hall. He grinned and crept after her.

Lucy opened the door of the spare room and crept inside, closing it behind her. She walked over to the wardrobe and reached out for the handle, though hesitated just as her hand stopped centimeters away from the metallic material.

Biting her lip, she gave in; she'd gone earlier, after all; and pulled the door open.

A breeze blew out from the wardrobe, extinguishing the candle.

Lucy smiled and went in, closing the door behind her.

After Lucy disappeared into the wardrobe, Edmund stepped out of the shadows.

"Not this again." He groaned. "Seriously, that girl needs to be locked up," he muttered under his breath, not really caring that it was his own sister he was talking about.

Sighing, he walked over to the wardrobe, reached for the knob, threw the door open and jumped in to find...

Nothing. The room laid bare and silent.

_So, the last time wasn't real_, he thought, letting out a relieved sigh, though the relief wavered a bit, becoming wary. _If what I saw earlier wasn't real, then where is Lucy?_

Swallowing back the wariness, Edmund put up a smirk and began to make noise he thought would scare Lucy.

"Luuucccyyyy! Whooooooo! It's the goblins from the warrrdrrrobbbbe!" He crept into the wardrobe, climbed inside and shut the door behind him.

Darkness.

Frowning, Edmund clunked and struggled in the wardrobe.

"Lucy?"

He stumbled forward out of the darkness and there he was again, stepping out from the shadow of some thick dark fir trees into an open place in the middle of... a wood.

_Okay... so, it is real, after all..._

There was crisp, dry snow under his feet and more snow lying on the branches of the trees. Overhead there was the pale blue sky, the sort of sky one sees on a fine winter day in the morning. Straight ahead of him he saw between the tree-trunks the sun, just rising, very red and clear. Everything was perfectly still as if he were the only living creature in that country. There was not even a robin or a squirrel among the trees, and the wood stretched as far as he could see in every direction. He shivered.

He now remembered that he had been looking for Lucy; and also how unpleasant he had been to her about her "imaginary country" which now turned out not to have been imaginary at all.

He thought that she must be somewhere quite close and so he shouted, "Lucy! Lucy! I'm here too— Edmund."

There was no answer.

_She's angry about all the things I've been saying lately_, thought Edmund. And though he did not like to admit that he had been wrong, he also did not much like being alone in this strange, cold, quiet place; so he shouted again.

"I say, Lu! I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I see now you were right all along. Do come out. Make it Pax."

Still, there was no answer.

"Just like a girl," said Edmund to himself, "sulking somewhere, and won't accept an apology."

He looked around him again and decided he did not much like this place and had almost made up his mind to go home, when he heard, very far off in the wood, a sound of bells. He listened and the sound came nearer and nearer and at last, there swept into sight a sled drawn by two reindeer.

The reindeer were about the size of Shetland ponies and their hair was so white that even the snow hardly looked white compared with them; their branching horns were gilded and shone like something on fire when the sunrise caught them. Their harness was of scarlet leather and covered with bells. On the sled, driving the reindeer, sat a fat dwarf who would have been about three feet high if he had been standing. He was dressed in polar bear's fur and on his head he wore a red hood with a long gold tassel hanging down from its point; his huge beard covered his knees and served him instead of a rug. But behind him, on a much higher seat in the middle of the sled sat a very different person— a great lady, taller than any woman that Edmund had ever seen. She also was covered in white fur up to her throat and held a long straight golden wand in her right hand and wore a golden crown on her head. Her face was white— not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing-sugar, except for her very red mouth. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud and cold and stern.

The sled was a fine sight as it came sweeping towards Edmund with the bells jingling and the dwarf cracking his whip, the snow flying up on each side of it.

"Stop!" said the Lady, and the dwarf pulled the reindeer up so sharp that they almost sat down. Then they recovered themselves and stood, champing their bits and blowing. In the frosty air, the breath coming out of their nostrils looked like smoke.

"And what, pray, are you?" said the Lady, looking hard at Edmund.

"I'm-I'm-my name's Edmund," said Edmund rather awkwardly. He did not like the way she looked at him.

The Lady frowned, "Is that how you address a Queen?" she asked, looking sterner than ever.

"I beg your pardon, your Majesty, I didn't know," said Edmund:

"Not know the Queen of Narnia?" cried she. "Ha! You shall know us better hereafter. But I repeat— what are you?"

"Please, your Majesty," said Edmund, "I don't know what you mean. I'm at school—at least I was, it's the holidays now."

"_But_ what are you?" said the Queen again. "Are you a great overgrown dwarf that has cut off its beard?"

"No, your Majesty," said Edmund, "I never had a beard, I'm a boy."

"A boy!" said she. "Do you mean you are a Son of Adam?"

Edmund stood still, saying nothing. He was too confused by this time to understand what the question meant.

"I see you are an idiot, whatever else you may be," said the Queen. "Answer me, once and for all, or I shall lose my patience. Are you human?"

"Yes, your Majesty," said Edmund.

"And how, pray, did you come to enter my dominions?"

"Please, your Majesty, I came in through a wardrobe."

"A wardrobe? What do you mean?"

"I— I opened a door and just found myself here, your Majesty," said Edmund.

"Ha!" said the Queen, speaking more to herself than to him. "A door. A door from the world of men! I have heard of such things. This may wreck all. But he is only one, and he is easily dealt with." As she spoke these words she rose from her seat and looked Edmund full in the face, her eyes flaming; at the same moment, she raised her wand. Edmund felt sure that she was going to do something dreadful but he seemed unable to move. Then, just as he gave himself up for lost, she appeared to change her mind.

"My poor child," she said in quite a different voice, "how cold you look! Come and sit with me here on the sled and I will put my mantle around you and we will talk."

Edmund did not like this arrangement at all but he dared not disobey; he stepped on to the sled and sat at her feet, and she put a fold of her fur mantle round him and tucked it well in.

"Perhaps something hot to drink?" said the Queen. "Should you like that?"

"Yes please, your Majesty," said Edmund, whose teeth were chattering.

The Queen took from somewhere among her wrappings a very small bottle which looked as if it were made of copper. Then, holding out her arm, she let one drop fall from it on the snow beside the sled. Edmund saw the drop for a second in mid-air, shining like a diamond. But the moment it touched the snow there was a hissing sound and there stood a jeweled cup full of something that steamed. The dwarf immediately took this and handed it to Edmund with a bow and a smile; not a very nice smile. Edmund felt much better as he began to sip the hot drink. It was something he had never tasted before, very sweet and foamy and creamy, and it warmed him right down to his toes.

"It is dull, Son of Adam, to drink without eating," said the Queen presently. "What would you like best to eat?"

"Turkish Delight, please, your Majesty," said Edmund.

* * *

_"NO!" she shouted, running past her brother and in front of a woman and her child just as one of the robbers who was pointing his gun at the pair pulled the trigger. She was shot right in her chest just above her heart and collapsed._

_"No! Ella! You son of a bitch. You shot my sister! You'll pay for that!" he shouted sprinting towards them but just then another shot was heard, followed by many others. The ten-year-old girl shut her eyes, knowing what that meant._

_"Ella?"_

_The girl's breathing became shallow as her eyes fluttered open and she slowly turned my head to the side to see her brother crawling his way towards her._

_"Fabien?" Ella said, though her voice came out strangled. As soon as he reached her, he grabbed her and hugged her weakly to him, both oblivious to the frantic people rushing around looking for a way to help the siblings who had just sacrificed their lives for a family they didn't even know._

_"I'm so, so sorry, Ella. I love you so much, please don't die," he chocked out as his grip on her was loosening._

_She smiled sadly. "Fabi, it's okay. I'm okay... I love you..." she whispered though he did not respond. She hugged him closer to her, but her strength was failing her. He couldn't be gone._

_"Fabi..." she whispered. "Don't leave me."_

_"I'm right here, Ellie..." he whispered back in her ear. She painfully sighed in relief. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "We're dying, aren't we?"_

_He was silent at first. "I'm sorry, Elle."_

_They were silent for a while, neither paying attention to the frantic people around them, nor the robbers that were now being arrested. Ella had started to think he was already gone, but she sighed in relief, once again, when she heard his heart beating against his chest. The beats we're faint and slow, like hers, but at least they were still audible._

_"Ella... princess... I'm so sorry..." he chocked out._

_Her heart practically shattered. "It's okay, Fabi..." she chocked out._

_There's was no response._

_"Fabi?" she whispered. Still no answer. "Fabien?" she tried, but, again, he did not answer. She couldn't even try to be in denial._ _He was gone._ _But she didn't want that to be true. She wanted his heart to beat again._

_Craning her neck a bit, she opted for shaking her brother. "Fabien? Fabien, please," she choked out._

Her eyes snapped open and she was breathing heavily, her body completely shaken up from that horrible memory. She sat up but instantly regretted it as she felt a familiar pain engulf her body. She blinked a few times before glancing around, as though to remember where she was. Her room, always neat and in order. She sighed and laid back down, though frowned when a familiar voice reached her ears.

* * *

"Peter! Peter, Peter, wake up! Peter, wake up! It's there! It's really there!"

"Shh. Lucy, what are talking about?"

"What's going on?" Susan asked tiredly as she joined them.

"Narnia!" Lucy exclaimed happily. "It's really there like I told you! It's all true. Edmund saw it too. There is a country you can get to through the wardrobe."

"You've just been dreaming, Lucy," said Susan, just wanting to get this over with so she could go back to bed.

"But I haven't!" Lucy insisted. "I saw Mister Tumnus again! And this time Edmund went too."

Peter looked at Edmund and raised an eyebrow. "You... You saw the Faun?"

Edmund shook his head.

"Well, he didn't actually go there with me," said Lucy. "We met one another in there, in the wood. Go on, Edmund; tell them all about it."

"What's all this about, Ed?" said Peter.

And now we come to one of the nastiest things in this story. Up to that moment Edmund had been feeling sick, and sulky, and annoyed with Lucy for being right, but he hadn't made up his mind what to do. When Peter suddenly asked him the question he decided all at once to do the meanest and most spiteful thing he could think of. He decided to let Lucy down.

"Tell us, Ed," said Susan.

And Edmund gave a very superior look as if he were far older than Lucy; of course, he wasn't, he was actually but two years older than her.

He gave a little snigger as he went to sit on the bed with a smug look on his face and said, "Oh, yes, Lucy and I have been playing— pretending that all her story about a country in the wardrobe is true. just for fun, of course. There's nothing there really. I'm sorry, Peter. I shouldn't have encouraged her, but you know what little children are like these days. They just don't know when to stop pretending."

Poor Lucy gave Edmund one look and rushed out of the room.

Edmund, who was becoming a nastier person every minute, thought that he had scored a great success, and went on at once to say, "There she goes again. What's the matter with her? That's the worst of young kids, they always—"

"Look here," said Peter, turning on him savagely, "shut up! You've been perfectly beastly to Lu ever since she started this nonsense about the wardrobe, and now you go playing games with her about it and setting her off again. I believe you did it simply out of spite."

"But it's all nonsense," said Edmund, very taken aback.

"Of course it's all nonsense," said Peter, "that's just the point. Lu was perfectly all right when we left home, but since we've been down here she seems to be either going queer in the head or else turning into a most frightful liar. But whichever it is, what good do you think you'll do by jeering and nagging at her one day and encouraging her the next?"

"I thought—I thought," said Edmund; but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"You didn't think anything at all," said Peter; "it's just spite. You've always liked being beastly to anyone smaller than yourself; we've seen that at school before now."

"Shut up!" Edmund exclaimed, face flushed in anger. "You're not Dad! I wish you weren't even my brother!"

"Do stop it," said Susan; "it won't make things any better having a row between you two. Let's go and find Lucy."

It was not surprising that when they found Lucy, a good deal later, everyone could see that she had been crying. Nothing they could say to her made any difference. She stuck to her story and said:

"I don't care what you think, and I don't care what you say. You can tell the Professor or you can write to Mother or you can do anything you like. I know I've met a Faun in there and— I wish I'd stayed there and you are all beasts, beasts."

And with that said, she ran again, tears running down her cheeks once more.

* * *

"Grandfather, I think something has gone downhill with the Pensives," Ella told the Professor from where she stood in front of his open bedroom door.

He looked at her with soft eyes, noticing the slight concern she was trying to hide from her eyes.

"Would you like for us to go and see what all the ruckus is about?" he asked softly.

"It would honestly help me sleep better tonight." As if on cue, a loud sob was heard from the upper level, proving her point as to why she couldn't go back to sleep.

The Professor chuckled and nodded. "Of course, dear. Come on."

And with that said, the pair started their way back up the stairs to see their guests. "And Ella, it's the Pevensies," he added, causing her lips to twitch slightly upward as she rolled her eyes.

At that precise moment, Lucy came running down the hall, face tear-stained, and ran straight into Ella. The little girl looked up at her and threw her arms around her, catching both Ella and the Professor off guard, though, after a few moments, the older girl hesitantly wrapped her arms around the little girl and returned the embrace. Ella was not so surprised as she had noticed that, no matter how much she tried to distance herself from the youngest Pevensie, Lucy only seemed to attach herself more to her ever since that day she had gone to comfort her. The Professor was more surprised; he'd seen the child trying often to spend time with his granddaughter, but this was the first time he'd seen the latter give herself into comforting someone she barely knew and had tried to push away.

Missus Macready came out of her room and walked over. "You children are one shenanigan shy of sleeping' in the stable!" She then noticed the head of the household. "Professor. I'm sorry. I told them you were not to be disturbed."

"It's alright, Missus Macready. I'm sure there's an explanation," said the Professor, placing an arm around his granddaughter, who still held the crying girl in her arms. "But first of all, I think this one is in need of a little hot chocolate."

"Yes, Professor. Come along, dear."

But Lucy didn't want to let go of Ella; she knew that Ella was the only one who believed her, even though she hadn't said so directly.

Ella knelt down in front of her and offered her a rare smile that seemed to calm her down a bit. "Go with Missus Macready. Some hot chocolate and some biscuits would make you feel better," she said in her naturally soothing voice.

Sniffling, the little girl looked at her shyly, wiping her eyes a bit with the sleeve of her coat. "Will you come with me?" she asked in a small voice.

"I will join you in a moment," Ella promised. "But I need you to go with Missus Macready for now, okay? Can you do that?"

Lucy nodded and gave the girl another hug before grabbing Missus Macready's outstretched hand and letting the latter lead her downstairs to the kitchen.

"Grandfather, if you will...?" Ella glanced in down the stairway that led to his study.

"Of course, my dear. Come, come."

* * *

Peter dragged his heels as he and Susan climbed the stairs. "I really don't think we should disturb him."

Susan tried to look self-assured. "Why not? Are you scared?"

"No," Peter replied with a slight edge to his tone. "But... I mean... we don't even know him well. Shouldn't we just keep this in the family."

"Has that been working so far?" Susan sighed as they reached the Professor's door. "We have to do something."

Peter looked at Susan, rolled his eyes and raised his hand to knock, though stopped short when he heard voices coming from the other side of the door.

"_I just don't know why I had it_," a soft melodic voice said, which was easy to recognize as Ella's.

It was silent for a moment before they heard the Professor reply, "_This isn't the first one, is it?_"

A sigh. "_No. The last one was of... George. Before... before we got the news a few days ago._"

"_Anyone else._"

There was a pause. "_They're recurring. And about all of them. I don't even know why I get some of Erick and Henry; I wasn't even there! And I dream about a man who, I guess, is my father, dying, though I've never even met him before. I don't understand what's happening, Grandpapa._"

"_My dear, you've gone through so much ever since before you were but a mere toddler. It is normal for one to have these sort of dreams after having to endure so much trauma. Though as for what is from your father, whom you've never met, and your brothers, whose demise you have not all witnessed, I am guessing it has quite some to do with where you are from._"

Silence again.

"_That's not all, is it?_"

Another sigh. "_I've found myself thoroughly dreaming of this woman called Jadis._"

"_Tell me about her._"

"_Well... how do I put it?_" A pause. "_She's a white witch._" Another pause. "_Literally. She's white everywhere, and she's a witch._"

"_What happens in those dreams you have of her?_"

There was a moment of hesitation before Ella replied. "_I die... she kills me._"

"Peter, knock already! We're not supposed to be eavesdropping!" Susan hissed at her older brother. "It's rude."

Peter looked down at her and rolled his eyes again before knocking.

It was silent for a moment before the Professor said, "_Come in._"

Peter and Susan timidly stepped inside. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with ancient books and artifacts. A massive desk loomed beneath a window, and behind it sat the white-haired. He pored over an old book, spectacles glinting in the lamp light, as his granddaughter, who was siting on the edge of the desk, stared blankly at the book-crammed shelves, her lower lip caught in between two perfect lines of pearly white teeth.

"Professor Kirke?" Peter asked hesitantly. Ella snapped out of whatever trance she had appeared to be in and looked over at the two Pevensies and stared at them blankly.

"Ah... children," the Professor greeted casually. "Pleasure to see you. Do come in. Is everything alright?"

Ella fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her grandfather's question. Of course, nothing was alright— did he not see the crying girl who ran straight into them earlier?

"Actually, sir, we have a question about our sister," said Susan.

_At least she doesn't try and pretend everything's fine_, Ella thought, feeling a strange speck of respect for the younger girl before them.

The Professor looked up mildly interested.

"She's... well, it seems she's been lying," said Peter.

"That's a very serious charge, my boy," said the Professor in a grave tone.

Finally, Susan just blurted out, "She says she found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe."

The Professor's head snapped up. "What did you say?"

"Um, the wardrobe upstairs..." Peter repeated, trailing off in uncertainty.

The Professor popped out from behind his desk, gathered the children and seated them on the couch; Ella stood from where she sat on the desk and walked over to the window. It was raining again.

"Lucy insists she found a forest inside," said Peter.

"What was it like?" asked the Professor.

Susan sighed. "Like talking to a lunatic—"

"Not her, the forest."

Ella's lips twitched upward as she listened. Peter and Susan only looked at each other, confused.

"You're not saying you believe her?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"Well, how do you know her story isn't true?"

"Edmund said that they had just been pretending," said Susan.

"And he's usually the more truthful of the two?" Ella asked from where she stood by the window, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She smiled a bit at the nightingale that was tapping on her window.

Peter and Susan glanced over at the older girl, then shared a look before shaking their heads.

"No," Peter admitted.

"That's just it, up until now I would say Lucy is very honest," said Susan.

"Do you think she's mad? Insane?" the Professor asked them.

"Probably not," said Susan.

The Professor took a pipe from the hand of a wooden monkey. "What do they teach them in these schools?" He unscrewed a silver apple, revealing a core of tobacco. "If Lucy isn't lying, and she's not mad, then logically, unless further evidence turns up..." He lit up his pipe and waved away a cloud of smoke. "We must assume she's telling the truth."

It was silent for a moment before Ella asked, "Why don't you believe her?"

"Because it's impossible," Susan replied.

Ella silently chuckled, shaking her head as she opened the window a bit and reached out a hand on which the nightingale jumped and rested on her finger.

"There's that word," said the Professor. "Seems to make everything smaller somehow, doesn't it?"

The corner of Ella's lips twitched. "I meant what I said the other day, Pensive," she said as she turned around, the tiny bird on her finger. The two Pevensies looked over at her and felt their eyes widen in shock at the scene before them; the Professor only smiled at the sight of his granddaughter caressing the little vertebrate's feathers.

"The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper." She held her hand out and let the bird fly off, spiraling around her before settling once again on her finger, whistling beautifully. " Children see magic because they look for it."

She looked toward Peter and Susan, eyes intense as they rested upon them. "Those who don't believe in it will never find it."

She walked over to one of the many coffee tables in the room, which was crowded with biscuits, sweet bread, tea, and coffee. She grabbed a piece of bread and ruining it with her free hand until it was but crumbs. She put it all on a small plate and placed it on the desk, where the bird jumped and gleefully fed itself.

"I'm going to tell you what I told your sister," she said, eyes never leaving the bird. Her grandfather only listened, watching the girl with prideful eyes, as he smoked his pipe.

"Everyone believes that every answer can be found within science." Susan felt herself blush slightly; she was one of the many to believe that. "That without books the development of civilization would have been impossible. But the thing is, where do all these books come from? Sure, they come from us, but where do we come from?" Ella grabbed a biscuit and took a big bite out of it before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"The most common, logical answer anyone would give is: we come from earth. We come from Adam and Eve, or we are descendants of primates, blah, blah blah." Susan bit back a giggle then when Ella's tone had become a bit dramatically bored.

Ella took a sip from her coffee, finished her biscuit, then continued. "The question is: where did all of _that_ come from? God. Yes. But how did he create us? He used his powers. Whatever he thought or believed he could do, he did. He began and finished it."

She reached a hand toward the bird, and, chirping, it instantly jumped onto her finger.

She turned to face the others, expression unreadable. "Action has magic, grace, and power in it."

"The word 'impossible' is only in the mind," said the Professor. "And not in the heart. If we can remain in the heart, There will be no end to our progress."

"He's right," said Ella. They all turned to look at her, only to be shocked when they found her smirking. "Nothing's impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'."

She grabbed her cup of coffee and walked over to the other side of the room, the bird still resting on her finger. "Grandfather." She nodded at him before turning to the children and nodding as well. "Pensives." And with that she pushed her back against a door, which neither one of the Pevensies had noticed, opening it, and walked out of sight.

There was a moment of silence between the siblings and the old man, when suddenly, blinking, Susan realized something.

"Did she just call us Pensives?"


	8. It's been a long time

**It's been a long time...**

"I still don't believe it can be true," said Susan.

Peter nodded in agreement. "I still find the whole thing hard to believe, as well."

"Why do you say that?" asked the Professor.

"Well, for one thing," said Peter, "if it was true, why doesn't everyone find this country every time they go to the wardrobe? I mean, there was nothing there when we looked; even Lucy didn't pretend there was."

"What has that to do with it?" said the Professor.

"Well, sir, if things are real, they're there all the time."

"Are they?" said the Professor; and Peter didn't know quite what to say.

"But there was no time," said Susan. "Lucy had no time to have gone anywhere, even if there was such a place. She came running after us the very moment we were out of the room. It was less than a minute, and she pretended to have been away for hours."

"That is the very thing that makes her story so likely to be true," said the Professor. "If there really a door in this house that leads to some other world—if, I say, she had got into another world, I should not be at a surprised to find that the other world had a separate time of its own; so that however long you stay there it would never take up any of our time. On the other hand, I don't think many girls her age would invent that idea for themselves. If she had been pretending, she would have hidden for a reasonable time before coming out and telling her story."

"But do you really mean, sir," said Peter, "that there could be other worlds— all over the place, just round the corner— like that?"

"Nothing is more probable," said the Professor, taking off his spectacles and beginning to polish them, while he repeating to himself in a mutter, "I wonder what they do teach them at these schools."

"But what are we to do?" said Susan. She felt that the conversation was beginning to get off the point.

"My dear young lady," said the Professor, suddenly looking up with a very sharp expression at both of them, "there is one plan which no one has yet suggested and which is well worth trying."

"What's that?" said Susan.

"We might all try minding our own business," said he.

And that was the end of that conversation.

* * *

Ella pushed the door of the kitchen open, where Lucy was seated on a stool, drinking some hot chocolate, and Missus Macready stood by the window. The old lady turned at the sound of the door opening, then left when Ella nodded at her.

"Why don't they believe me?" Lucy asked with a soft whimper.

"They're the kind of people that only believe if they see. They don't realize that sometimes one has to believe first, in order to see. But they will. Soon."

Lucy frowned for a moment before turning to look at the older girl, only to gasp when she saw her holding a bird.

"Is that a... a...?"

"Nightingale." She let the bird fly around her again before settling upon the table, where there were breadcrumbs. "And a hungry one too."

Lucy couldn't help but giggle at the hungry bird. She reached out to touch it but refrained herself from doing so when the bird stopped eating and cocked its head to the side, looking at her.

Ella stepped closer and reached a hand out to the bird, which instantly jumped onto her finger. She held the bird out to Lucy and chuckled; it was as though the little girl was having a staring contest with the bird.

"Go on," she encouraged.

Lucy looked up at her, then back at the bird, biting her lip in hesitation before finally reaching out a shaky hand to touch the bird. The latter recoiled from her reach, causing her to let her hand fall to her side, a look of disappointment on her face.

"You're shaking," Ella commented, earning herself a sheepish look from the girl.

Chuckling, Ella reached for her hand and brought it up, close to the bird. The creature looked at the small pale hand, cocking its head to the side as it studied it, then, after a few hesitant seconds, it jumped onto the smaller finger, causing Lucy to gasp in surprise, then smile brightly.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Lucy nodded, smile still bright. "There are a lot more of these little fellas in Narnia."

Lucy's head snapped up, and she stared at her, eyes wide. This was the first time she'd heard the older girl speak of the land, let alone its name. "You _do_ know Narnia!"

Ella bit her lip, a bit hesitant before reaching for the small vertebrate, gently cradling it between her hands. She walked over to the window, opened it and let the bird fly out.

"Farewell, my friend," she murmured before turning to Lucy, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the kitchen, past the dining room and up the long flight of stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" Lucy asked, looking up at the girl with curious eyes.

"To my quarters; there's something I want to show you," she said before they finally turned down the corridor that led to her bedroom. As soon as they entered her sleeping quarters, she closed the door behind them and stood before her wardrobe.

Lucy furrowed her brows in confusion as they just stood there. "You want to show me your wardrobe?"

Ella's lips twitched upward as she let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "Not exactly, no." She pulled the little girl over to her bed. "Sit."

Lucy did as she was told, siting on the edge of the large mattress, as Ella turned back to her wardrobe and opened it. Fitting her hands in the between two of her dresses that determined the middle of the racket on which hung her clothes in the wardrobe, she slid both piles of clothes down the metal bar, revealing the back of the wardrobe, which, compared to the rest of the wardrobe, was made of a completely different type of wood. There was what looked like a small handle screwed in on the left; Ella grabbed it and jiggled it a bit before sliding it open to the right. She smiled slightly when her eyes fell upon _the gown_. It wasn't until now, since the last time she'd brought it out, which had been before she confronted the youngest and oldest Pevensie, that she realized how much she really missed her place of birth.

"What I'm going to show you right now is something that is very important to me," Ella said quietly. There was a moment of silence as she stared at the golden fabric she had hidden behind the wood at the back of her wardrobe. Her voice, though soft as it always was, had more strength put in its usual firmness.

Lucy watched as the girl brought what seemed like a golden outfit out of her wardrobe and gasped when she saw what it was as Ella placed it on her bed.

It was a strapless gold silk gown that was embroidered with floral appliques and a pearl beading. The long silk skirt featured gathered on one side and a very full sweep with yards and yards of silk that moved if the one who wore it walked. The beautiful bodice was lined with a rear metal zip closure and right behind it, on the same hanger, was a long laced, golden cape that accompanied it perfectly. The entire attire, though, seemed to be too small for Ella to be the one wearing it.

"This is the dress I wore throughout my coronation as a princess, and the one I was still wearing when I was sent back."

Lucy's eyes shone with awe. "So you _are_ a princess."

There was a moment of silence before Ella replied a quiet 'yes'.

Lucy looked up and saw Ella standing by her wooden vanity dresser, her back to her. When she finally turned around, she was holding a slightly old yet elegant-looking wooden case.

"Why were you sent back?" asked Lucy, glancing back at the dress for a moment, still in awe, before looking back at Ella, who was now walking toward her.

Ella stopped for a moment, brows furrowing a bit as she thought. "I'm not sure. I guess it was for protection; I know there was someone after me. I just never knew who."

"But you'll go back, right?"

"It's not that simple, Lucy."

"B-but you're a princess, you have to! You have to be crowned a Queen," said Lucy.

Ella sighed. "I don't know when I'll go back; I'm not the one who makes that decision."

Lucy frowned; she felt bad for Ella, she could tell that the latter really missed her home and wanted to return. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but it got stuck in her throat when Ella opened the wooden case. There, on a royal red silky cushion, lay the most exquisite rhinestone tiara Lucy had ever seen... well, the first and only one, but it was the most beautiful item she had ever seen apart from the golden gown displayed beside her. The tiara was a perfect gold frame with gorgeous rhinestones that created a classic beauty.

"Is that..." Lucy couldn't finish as she was lost in her awe.

For the first time, Ella smiled brightly and genuinely at someone other than her best friend.

"I was alright with having a simple crown made of flowers and leaves, but it was insisted that I have one of gold, with one of the rarest stones in Narnia being the rhinestone."

Lucy giggled at the first comment but then turned serious at the mention of the land again. If Ella hadn't been there in a long time, she probably had no idea about the White Witch.

"Narnia is in trouble," she blurted out.

Ella's eyes snapped away from her tiara and over to the little girl. She looked at her for a moment, uncertain if she had heard right. "What?"

After the word slipped from her lips, Lucy found herself going on about the first time she went to Narnia, the Faun she met called Mister Tumnus, which made Ella smile a bit as she remembered her old friend, and how there was now an evil dominating the land.

"Evil?" Ella asked, blinking in surprise.

Lucy nodded. "There's a White Witch." Ella instantly straightened up a the mention of the latter. She had no idea who it was, but she had been dreaming of her, and if that witch was messing with her homeland, she was going to be in some serious trouble... that is, when Ella finally finds a way to get back.

"She's got all Narnia under her thumb," Lucy said, practically reciting, word by word, what the Faun had told her the first time she went to the wondrous land. "She makes it always winter there. Always winter and never Christmas; think of that! No presents!" Lucy exclaimed.

Ella couldn't help but chuckle at the comment about there being no presents, though she couldn't help but ball her hands into fists at the thought of there being someone wanting to her land. She wasn't one to want people dead, but, if it went down to her having to kill whoever it was that was destroying the wondrous Narnia, she would do it without hesitation... okay, maybe not without hesitation, but she would do whatever it takes to bring back the Narnia she once knew.

Ella looked down at Lucy and noticed the little girl yawning. She chuckled and said, "you're tired."

Lucy jumped in surprise as the silence between them, after she had finished telling her tale, had lasted quite long. She blinked a few times before looking at Ella with wide eyes, then shaking her head.

"Oh, no! I'm fine! Perfectly—" She cut herself off with a contradicting yawn. Her mouth closed and she gave the older girl a sheepish smile. "Alright, maybe just a little," she said, though the tiredness seeping through her words and onto her face said otherwise as her eyelids began to drop.

Ella chuckled again, shaking her head as she loosened the tight grip she had on her tiara and placed the item on her bed before stepping closer to Lucy and scooping the girl up in her arms.

"You don't have to—" Yawn. "— carry me..." Lucy mumbled though she snuggled deeper into Ella's arms, burying her face in the crook of the latter's neck.

"It's alright," said Ella in her soft melodic voice. "Sleep. I'll take you to your bed."

She walked quickly and soundlessly down the stairs and down the corridor and paused for a moment when she reached the door to the Pevensie sisters' room. She shifted Lucy carefully in her arms and softly knocked on the door.

* * *

Susan, who had barely lain on her bed as she was still worried about her little sister, practically jumped at the sudden knock on the door. It was soft and faint, but it still did not fail to startle her as it was unexpected. She quickly scrambled out of her bed and practically ran to the door. She opened it and her eyebrows raised in surprise when she saw Ella standing there with Lucy in her arms.

The young Kirke did not say or do anything other than shift her eyes toward the inside of the room before looking at Susan with a pointed look. Nodding, Susan quietly stepped aside and let the older girl carry her sister to her bed, where she laid her down and gently tucked her in. After doing so, she gave the little girl one last tender look before turning to leave, but not before nodding at the oldest Pevensie sister. She walked out of the room but stopped when she was called out by the latter.

"Good night, Ella," said Susan. "And thank you."

Back facing the latter, Ella was silent for a moment before finally replying ever so softly, "Good night," before soaring her way down the hallway, to her room, where her spirit was left in peace throughout the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning, Ella woke up rather early and left for the stables to let Candid run alongside her as she rode her raven horse. After a long run, she went back to the mansion before it began to rain, took a shower, then joined the others for breakfast, where she talked a bit more than usual, bringing a smile to her grandfather's face. After breakfast, she left them and went to the lounge on her floor. She walked over to the piano, sat down on the bench and began to lazily play a few notes with her index finder; she loved the rain, but sometimes, when it was heavy, it rendered her energy and mood a little duller than usual. She continued playing a bit lazily for a moment before she embarked into a lullaby her mother used to play.

"A lullaby on a rainy day... well, that's depressing," said a voice from the door in a teasing manner.

Her fingers faltered and she turned to look at the tall figure leaning against the door frame, in surprise. "Mason? What are you doing here?"

"I came to feed the horses," he replied sarcastically. "What do you think?"

Ella rolled her eyes as she turned back to the piano, placed her fingers on the keys and resumed the previous rhythm. "I'm asking because I know for a fact that it's quite dreadful outside, and you hate such weather."

"Nothing can stop me from coming to see you," he said softly, his eyes gazing at her with longing she was unaware of as she had her back facing him.

Though he could not see her face, he knew that she was a beautiful as always, especially with her hair drawn back, uncovering her glowing face, that pure beige bodice that had a contrasted round neckline that did not hide her fine collarbones, and that darker-hued, floral printed skirt that fell just about an inch above her strong yet delicate looking knees. And then there was that tied bow around her waist, with the black sash that only accentuated her slim but feminine silhouette. He couldn't help but feel more drawn to this perfect being, more than he'd already been. He was always close to her, but he couldn't help but want to be even closer.

As Mason advanced toward Ella and occupied the space beside her on the bench, her fingers stopped, hovering over the black and white keys. She was about to continue playing, but recoiled her fingers at the last second and neatly folded her hands over her laps, her brows slightly furrowed in confusion; this was the first time she was uncertain of how to reply to her best friend. It wasn't that she felt uncomfortable with him because she didn't.

In fact, he was the only person she could be herself around.

She may live with her grandfather and Missus Macready, who, both, had known her, her entire life, or so was her belief, but even with them around, she found it difficult to be herself. Professor Kirke understood her, but, at the same time, it was as though he didn't. With Mason, though he did not know of her Narnian background, he knew her like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what to say and what to do to make her laugh and smile and just be herself. But it was also him who puzzled her the most. She was usually good at reading people, at knowing how they are, and what they do or have done before even knowing their name. She had no hard time doing that with anyone, but, when it came to Mason, though she knew him like the back of her hand as well, inside and out, he seemed to always become overbearing. Like a song that was too long and didn't fit inside a record. Like the extra stuff that didn't entirely fit into a small stuffed toy, her being the toy, and him being the fluff. He was a book she could read and easily comprehend, but a puzzle she couldn't solve. A clue she couldn't decipher entirely.

An adventure unwanted to be over with because the thrill was just so addicting, but also scary.

Yes, for a while now, she'd felt a like an overloaded fruit blender, though what was overflowing out of her jar was her emotions. She was excited, scared, happy, angry, sad and relieved at the same time and she only felt whole and peaceful when she was with Mason. How odd. She had not noticed that her feelings towards him had changed so drastically. He was not only a friend she could count on; he was also the thoughtful, fun loving and always in a good mood— her personal sun.

She watched, from the corner of her eye as he lifted his big hands and left them to hover over the instrument's keys for a moment as he threw a side-glance at his best friend. "May I?"

Her lips twitched for a second before repeating what she had told her grandfather a few days ago, when he had played with her. "Be my guest."

He smiled and let his fingers press softly onto the keys they'd been hovering over, lingering on the harmonized notes for a moment before beginning to dance on the keys in a vivace rhythm, his fingers beginning to play the notes harder and louder. After what Ella counted to be three rounds, he lessened the volume, playing the keys a bit more softly, with a grin on his face. Ella brows furrowed for a moment before her eyes widened as she recognized the song.

She shook her head. "No, don't you da—"

He stopped playing for a moment as he began to sing, his baritone voice coming out a slightly bit raspier and rougher than when he talked. "**It's been** **a long time coming since I've seen your face**."

"Mason," Ella warned, but he only continued.

"**I've been everywhere and back trying to replace**—"

"Mace, serio—"

"**Everything that I had 'til my feet went numb, praying like a fool that's been on the run.**" He nudged his shoulder against hers in a teasing matter as he re-added the piano to accompany his voice.

"**Heart's still beating but it's not working, it's like a million dollar phone that you just can't ring.**" Ella shook her head when he nudged her again. "**I reached out trying to love but I feel nothing, yeah, my heart is numb.**"

* * *

Peter walked down the hallway, Lucy hot at his heels, skipping freely with a smile on her face. Her siblings and her had parted into pairs to explore a bit more. They had been around the mansion quite enough times to know their way around, but they did not know every part of it, so there was a chance they could still get lost. At the moment, they had reached the floor Ella's room was located on, and that was what got the youngest Pevensie smiling. She hadn't seen Ella since breakfast and she really hoped to see her again, maybe talk a bit more about Narnia. Peter's mind was also set on the Professor's granddaughter. He couldn't help but think about how much more open she had seemed over their morning meal. She hadn't smiled, but her eyes were brighter, twinkling with something he could not quite decipher, but he knew it was a positive emotion.

He and Lucy suddenly found themselves stopping short in front of a semi-closed door, where they could hear a raspy yet soft masculine voice singing. Sharing a look, the two Pevensies silently approached the door and listened silently, soon recognizing the voice of the owner. Peter felt an uncomfortable tug in the pit of his stomach when he peeked through the door and found a young raven-haired man sitting beside the dark-haired beauty he'd started to have inexplicable feelings for.

* * *

Within the quarters, Mason's fingers danced over the piano keys for a moment before he resumed singing the song. "**But with you, I feel again. Yeah, with you I can feel again, yeah...**" He glanced over at Ella, who was already looking at him, a small smile on her lips. He beckoned her with her eyes, to sing along, but she shook her head. "Come on," he said.

Shaking her head, she replied, "Nope."

"Ella."

"Mason."

"Sing with me."

"No."

As they continued to argue, Mason only began to crescendo as his fingers continued to dance along the piano keys. After a moment he stopped short and began to grin when she let out a sigh and didn't answer what seemed to be his seventh counter.

His fingers tapped furiously the piano in a transitioning rhythm before her soft, ringing mezzo-soprano voice melted like butter on hot toast as it sang in perfect synchronized harmony with his.

"**_Woo-hoo,_** **_woo-hoo, woo-hoo,_** **_woo-hoo_**." Ella finally mirrored his smiled as they went on. "**_I'm feeling better ever since you know me; I was a lonely soul but that's the old me_**."

"Your turn, Ellie," Mason said as he diminuendoed his rhythm.

Chuckling, she shook her head but sang anyway. "_It's been a long time coming since I've seen your face, I've been everywhere and back trying to replace._"

Then he joined her again. "**_Everything that I broke 'til my feet went numb, praying like a fool that just shot the gun._**"

She shifted her gaze over to the window at the other side of her room, where the pouring rain was quite visible. "_Heart still beating but it's not working, it's like a hundred thousand voices that just can't sing._"

"**_I reached out trying to love, but I feel nothing_**."

"_Oh, my heart is numb!_"

"**But with you... I feel again...**"

"**_Yeah, with you I can feel again, yeah..._**"

His fingers tapped on the piano, once again, crescendoing in a transitioning rhythm before they jumped back onto the chorus.

"**_Woo-hoo,_** **_woo-hoo, woo-hoo,_** **_woo-hoo_**." Ella had a bright, large smile on her face by now. "**_I'm feeling better ever since you know me; I was a lonely soul but that's the old me_**."

Mason diminuendoed again as they reached the end of the song.

"**A little wiser now from what you've shown me**," he sang softly.

Ella looked over at him, her smile faltering a bit when she found him already looking at her. Her heart fluttered as she sang just as softly, if not softer, "_Yeah, I feel again._"

For a moment it was just the piano playing before they both repeated, "**_Feel again_**_..._"

Then it was both of them again, but, this time, only their voices, "Woo-hoo," though, when Ella sang it, it came out spoken rather than sung.

Mason gazed into her eyes and she stared right back into his; his beautiful midnight blue eyes traveled down to her lips, then back up into her eyes. That was when it finally clicked inside her head, when she finally understood why he acted the way he acted lately— why he looked at her the way he did. He was giving her the look his father gave his mother and the other way around. The look she remembered her mother to have in her eyes every time she spoke of Ella's father, or thought about him, or looked at a picture of him. The look she had seen many couples give each other.

Her best friend loved her. And not in a friendly or sibling way.

She didn't know what to make of it. She loved him, yes, but she had no idea in what way. She'd never loved someone in any romantic way, never found herself in a situation like that, but there she was, face inches from her best friend's, who was starting to lean in. It wasn't until she noticed that she was leaning in as well that she realized that maybe she did reciprocate his feelings, but that was of no matter to her.

She couldn't be with someone if that someone was in a place she didn't belong in.

* * *

Peter turned away from the door, with a hard look on his face. Lucy, who had turned away the moment the song ended, was silently gushing over how beautiful it had sounded, though recomposed herself when she noticed the look on her brother's face.

"Peter, are you alright?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm as she looked up at him.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Peter looked down at his sister and nodded. "I'm fine, let's just go," he muttered, grabbing a hold of her shoulder and gently dragging her away. He didn't understand what he felt when he saw how intimate Ella and Mason had become, or why he felt so, but he knew that he did not want to witness whatever might happen between the pair.

* * *

Ella was still, eyes never leaving Mason's. Their faces were close and stayed close for an intimate beat. They could kiss, their lips were so near... but Ella blinked herself back to reality, pulled away and looked down at the black and white piano keys.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she did not look up. Brows furrowed, he pursed his lips for a moment before reaching out and grabbing her hand, holding it gently yet tightly. He wasn't one to be emotional and all, but he couldn't help but feel hurt when she tried to pull away from that simple gesture; they always held hands and hugged each other.

"What? I can't hold your hand?" he asked.

She bit her lip, frowning a bit, then sighed. "It just... it seems that means a lot more to you than it does to me."

"One, that's my problem. And two... I know you like me." Her head snapped toward him and she looked at him with perplexed eyes. "I can see it in the way you always look back at me."

She shook her head, pulling her hand away and standing up, walking toward one of the windows. "No... no, you're wrong."

"You know I'm right," Mason said quietly, walking up behind her. "So why not just admit it?"

But she only shook her head again, denying it. She was so confused, she had no idea what she was feeling anymore. She had always loved Mason, she knew that much. But, she always saw him as another brother. He was her best friend.

She didn't know why, but she was frustrated now.

She turned on him and glared. "I can't!" She sat on the window seat and struggled to collect herself. "We can't," she said as calmly as she could. "It's just not possible."

He sat beside her, so close that she could feel the heat emitting out from his body. "Anything's possible." He leaned forward and looked at her, almost pleadingly. "Ella, please—"

"No," she cut him off, standing once more and walking over to the door-sized window at the other end of the room. "We can't," she repeated, though, this time, it came out more like a broken whisper. She hadn't realized until now that she wanted the same thing he wanted. She wanted a love she could reciprocate unconditionally. But could she ever get it?

"_I_ can't," she repeated. "Maybe... maybe someday... with someone... when I get ba—" she cut herself off quickly when she realized she almost let word of Narnia slip.

She had told him of the place before, when they were younger, but he hadn't believed her. Oh, how she yearned to tell him! But she knew that, if he didn't believe her then, he surely wouldn't now. After all, he was all about facts— what's real. What's there in front of the custom human eye.

Her slip up didn't go unnoticed by Mason, though. He had actually never forgotten about the stories she'd once told him when they were little, but, surely she could not be thinking of that _now_, practically seven years since she told him about it, could she? Yes, he had noticed she always spoke in a way that clearly stated that she was not from London, but never had she had such a slip up where she tried to stop herself from saying she didn't belong. That she was from another world.

Mason frowned. "Why do you always speak as if you're not even supposed to be here?" he asked, oddly annoyed.

Ella let out a tired sigh that made it look as though she was giving up. "Because... I'm not. I'm not supposed to be here," she answered back, confusing him more. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile when she saw the look on his face. "You won't understand. I just… I don't belong here."

"Of course you do!" he exclaimed himself, grabbing her hand. "Of course you belong here."

She shook her head, pulling her hand away. "London may withhold a unique beauty but it's not the same. It's not my home, Mason." She settled her brown eyes at him and sadly smiled. "I don't belong here."

"You baffle me," the young man replied, expelling a soft sigh. "I don't even know how to properly interact with you anymore. You're annoyed by me, aren't you? That's why you are so keen on going back to wherever you think you belong." To his surprise, she looked at him in amusement.

"I just can't be with someone. Not right now." Or maybe ever. "One'll end up hurt in the end."

He looked at her with soft eyes. "I would never hurt you."

She gave him a sardonic smile as she shook her head. "I never said I would be the one hurt." That made him look at her curiously. "My heart isn't unguarded, Mason; it's shielded with an iron dome that keeps it from entirely breaking apart. Though it may get rusted, I'm always ready."

With that said, she leaned forward and placed a soft chaste kiss on his cheek before pulling away and walking out of the lounge, leaving him there in his own confused thoughts.

That night, Ella went to bed pretty early, though sleep did not take over her when her head hit the pillow. Instead, she laid there, after braiding her hair, staring blankly at the ceiling of her room darkened by the night. She couldn't seem to stop thinking about Narnia ever since Lucy had told her about the White Witch. Then there was Mason and the unsettling revelation of his love for her. It all just gave her a migraine, and the only way for her to relieve herself of it was by going to get some fresh air.

After finally making up her mind, she pushed herself out of bed and walked to her wardrobe. She took off her nightgown, then proceeded by slipping on one of her favorite tops. It was a gunmetal gray blouse with a round neck leading into a slit front and pockets sitting on the shoulders of the rolled-length sleeves. The hemline fell just above the thighs and the whole was loose. Very comfortable. She matched it with a pair very soft, dark brown leather pants that featured a waistband with loops and narrow legs, which were a smash hit for her long legs. Her brown pair of riding boots followed, her cloak not far behind as it often got quite breezy at night in the woods, but got distracted by the wooden case sitting on her vanity dresser. She threw her cloak onto her bed, then made her way over to her vanity dresser, where, once standing in front of it, she gazed down at the wooden case with soft eyes. She lifted the lid and let out a sigh when the rhinestone tiara came in sight. The stone glimmered and shimmered under the moonlight, though it was not its beauty Ella had her mind on. It was the memories it held. After her coronation and her escapade back to London, she never wore it again because the mere sight of it hurt. Though, somehow, now, her heart didn't ache as much as it used to when she looked at it.

She carefully brought it out of the box and walked to stand in front of her mirror. Staring at the item through the speculum, she slowly lifted it and placed it on her head, where it fit perfectly.

"I must've had a big head back then," she quietly mused as she stared at herself.

She still didn't understand why _she_ was a princess. All that luxury was just not her. She was a fighter, a warrior, she wouldn't have considered joining the army otherwise. She was brought out of her thoughts when a light tapping came from her window. She turned and smiled a small smile when she recognized the small vertebrate.

Ella smiled a bit at the nightingale that was tapping on her window. She silently chuckled, shaking her head as she opened the window a bit and reached out a hand on which the little bird jumped and rested on her finger.

"Back for more food?" she asked as she caressed the little vertebrate's feathers. The nightingale jumped off her finger and spiraled around her before settling back onto her index finger, whistling in a rather urgent way. Ella frowned. "What's wrong?"

The bird jumped and flew upward, then began tugging at the end of her braid and flying to the windowsill.

Ella was puzzled now. "You're not Narnian, are you?" Though it was only meant to be a joke, Ella was starting to feel doubtful.

Making up her mind, she quickly shoved her smallest weapons into her fabric shoulder bag and slung it over her shoulder before grabbing her cloak. After putting it on, she grabbed her bow and arrows, and sword, and made her way to the window and slid it open, stepped over the window seat and stood out on the edge, where the nightingale was waiting for her, still chirping. Clenching her teeth as she concentrated, she took a step into the empty air. The ground seemed to move toward her so slowly that it was nothing at all to place her feet exactly right so that landing was no different than stepping one foot forward on a flat surface. She absorbed the impact in the balls of her feet, her landing quiet as always. Ignoring the light rain, she ran forward, disappearing within the tree shadows right behind the nightingale. She would've taken Baron, but, some part of her knew that she shouldn't bring him for this. She pulled the hood of her cloak as the rain began to turn into light snow, confusing Ella into oblivion.

_It couldn't be that cold now, could it?_

As though answering her question, a chilly breeze blew past her, making her shut her eyes for a moment as she leaned her head down and pulled the cloak tighter against her body. Suddenly, she heard a crisp. As though her feet were stepping on dry snow, or snow covered tree branches. But that couldn't be it, could it? She opened her eyes and found herself stepping out from the shadow of some thick dark fir trees into an open place in the middle of a wood...

A wood she recognized all too well.

It hadn't been for the nasty situation Narnia found itself in, Ella would have rejoiced.

"_There's a White Witch._ _She's got all Narnia under her thumb._ _She makes it always winter there._ _Always winter and never Christmas,_" Lucy had said. She had also said she'd met Mister Tumnus. Maybe he can tell her some more about Narnia's current state.

Destination in mind, Ella began to walk forward, crunch-crunch over the snow and through the wood. In about fifteen minutes she reached saw a familiar dim light a few yards away and made her way toward it. As soon as she reached it, she found it was the lamp-post where she had met Mister Tumnus all those years ago, a while before her escapade back to London.

She sighed. _Now, if I could only remember the way to his living quarters, that would be great_, she thought, tightening her cloak around her body as she glanced around. Just as she was about to head toward a pathway that seemed plain enough to walk on, she heard, very far off in the wood, a sound of bells. She listened and the sound came nearer and nearer. Eyes wide, Ella quickly ran and hid behind a large tree, and watched as there swept into sight a sled drawn by two reindeer.

On the sled, driving the reindeer, sat a fat dwarf who would have been about three feet high if he had been standing. He was dressed in polar bear's fur and on his head he wore a red hood with a long gold tassel hanging down from its point; his huge beard covered his knees and served him instead of a rug. But behind him, on a much higher seat in the middle of the sled sat a very different person— a great lady, taller than even the female elves that had shown Ella the ways of a Narnia when she'd been there the last time. Surely this woman wasn't Narnian. Her fashion only proved Ella's assumption right; she was covered in white fur up to her throat and held a long straight golden wand in her right hand and wore a golden crown on her head. Her face was white— not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing-sugar, except for her very red mouth. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud and cold and stern. It took Ella merely a second to recognize her as the woman from her nightmares.

It was the White Witch.

The sled was a fine sight as it came sweeping towards the spot Ella had once been at, with the bells jingling and the dwarf cracking his whip, the snow flying up on each side of it.

"Stop!" said the Lady, and the dwarf pulled the reindeer up so sharp that they almost sat down. Then they recovered themselves and stood champing their bits and blowing. In the frosty air the breath coming out of their nostrils looked like smoke.

The dwarf looked back up at her and asked, "Wha-what is it, Your Majesty?"

The Witch glared down at him. "What have I told you?"

The dwarf looked away and muttered an apology.

The Witch glanced around and noticed the human footprints on the snow that disappeared into the trees. She slowly descended her sled and followed them behind a large tree and paused. She stood there for a moment, eyes narrowed, before finally looking behind the tree in a quick move as though to scare the person on the other side, but, to her surprise, there was no one there.

She huffed, feeling mocked. "There was someone here," she said loudly, though her tone clearly suggested she was trying to convince herself. She made her way back to her sledge, unbeknown by the latter of the pair of brown eyes watching her from above the tree she had just turned her back on.

As soon as the sled had swept the Witch and the dwarf away, Ella jumped from the tree, eyes narrowed down into a glare as they stared after her new enemy, before she made way toward her former destination.

She had not gone far before she came to a familiar place where the ground became rough and there were rocks all about and little hills up and little hills down. After a while, Ella began to wonder whether she would be able to find the way, but she recognized an odd looking tree on one place and a stump in another and brought them on to where the ground became uneven and into the little valley and at last to the very door of Mister Tumnus's cave. But there a terrible surprise awaited her.

The door had been wrenched off its hinges and broken to bits. Inside, the cave was dark and cold and had the damp feel and smell of a place that had not been lived in for several days. Snow had drifted in from the doorway and was heaped on the floor, mixed with something black, which turned out to be the charred sticks and ashes from the fire. Someone had apparently flung it about the room and then stamped it out. The crockery lay smashed on the floor and the picture of the Faun's father had been slashed into shreds with a knife.

"What on earth...?" she mumbled, stooping down. She had just noticed a piece of paper, which had been nailed through the carpet to the floor. Squinting her eyes, she read under her breath the following words:

_The former occupant of these premises, the Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge of High Treason against her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc., also of comforting her said Majesty's enemies, harboring spies and fraternizing with Humans. _

_Signed Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police,_

_LONG LIVE THE QUEEN_

Ella had been angry before, but, now, she was enraged.

She ran out of the cave and kept running through the woods, not caring how much her legs were starting to ache. She had gotten so focused on her running that she nearly had a heart attack when she crashed into what looked like a horse's rear and fell hard onto her back. By then, when she sat up, the hood of her cloak had fallen off, revealing the golden rhinestoned tiara that had surprisingly stayed on her head.

Shaking her head in daze, Ella looked up and felt her heart stop when she found herself surrounded by seven centaurs who had their spears, swords, and arrows pointed at her. Out of instinct, Ella raised her hands in surrender; she'd been caught by the authorities many times when she'd tried to get into the army. She mentally scolded herself when she remembered that she, herself, had weapons and was fully capable of taking them all down... well, maybe not all of them, but most of them. They are centaurs, after all.

The biggest centaur, who also seemed to be the leader of the group, stepped forward toward her, still pointing his sword at her.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "You tell me," she retorted, motioning toward the tiara on her head.

The centaur had noticed it, but, no one had been to Cair Paravel in a long while, so he couldn't be too sure. He gave her a wary look and stepped back, lowering his sword, but not letting it go. He nodded his head toward his group, and each lowered their weapon but did not let go either.

"What flies without wings?" the centaur began and Ella began to lower her hands as her heart began to fill itself with newfound happiness at the memory of the riddle. "What passes all things? What mends all sorrow? What brings the morrow?"

Ella stared at the creature with a hard look on her face. "Time."

The pair stared each other down before a smirk made its way onto the centaur. "It's been so long, Your Majesty."

"Indeed it has been, Oreius," she said, a smile spreading across her face as she got onto her feet.


	9. Gifts and 'Horses'

**Gifts and 'Horses'**

_"Constant as the stars above, darling, you will always be loved..."_

Ella stirred from slumber.

_"And my love shining in you will help your dreams come true..."_

Her brows furrowed as her mouth curled downward into a frown, but her eyes never opened.

_"I'll cradle you in my arms tonight as sun embraces the moonlight..." A small, sad chuckle rang in her head before the familiar soprano voice that sounded like the soft blow of an ocarina continued to sing._

_"The clouds will carry us off tonight..._ _Our dreams will run deep like the sea..."_

She shifted her body in her sleep so she was facing the opposite wall of the tent.

_"Constant as the stars above, always know that you are loved..."_

Her arms wound themselves around her large pillow, hugging it close as a tear slipped from her eye.

_"And my love shining in you... will help you make your dreams come true..."_ _There was a short pause before the voice continued a bit groggily as though the person who was singing had begun to cry._

_"Will help your dreams come true..."_

Her eyes fluttered open, brows furrowed in confusion. _Who was that?_

Ella groggily looked around. It was dark, and the only source of light was a single ray of moonlight piercing through the thick drapes closing the entrance of the spacious tent she'd been given. On a small wooden table beside her cot, she found a bowl of food and a water gallon. One of the Narnians must've put it there when they noticed she hadn't eaten at dinner nor supper as she had spent her time training. Smiling slightly to herself, the strange dream long gone from her mind, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and reached a hand out to the bowl of food, though stopped herself when a faint jingle of bells reached her ears. She froze as it became silent, and she began to wonder if she hadn't just imagined it, but then tensed up when it rang through her ears again. She then frowned in slight confusion when she noticed something seemed different about it.

If it were the White Witch, she didn't want to have some of her fellow Narnians go up against her as only goal to prove themselves good warriors and lose their life. The witch wasn't worth all that trouble.

Mind set, she slipped on her riding boots, a red cloak following suite before she grabbed her weapons and slipped out of the tent.

As she wandered through the woods, following the faint jingle of bells, she couldn't help but curse, repeatedly, under her breath the many times she had almost fallen. She knew the elves had missed dressing her up but was it really necessary to give her a sleeping gown with so many layers?

"A young princess like you shouldn't be saying such vulgar words, Your Majesty."

Within less than three seconds, Ella had spun around and had an arrow pointing up at a person sitting on a sled that had reindeer with bells on their harness. But they were far bigger than the Witch's reindeer, and they were not white but brown. And on the sled, the person was an old man whom everyone knew the moment they set eyes on him. He was a huge man in a cherry-red robe with a hood that had fur inside it and a great white beard, that fell like a foamy waterfall over his chest.

"Father Christmas!" Ella cried out, letting out a small relieved and slightly disbelieving laugh as she put her arrow and bow away.

"Well, you seemed relieved," the old man chuckled.

"I thought you were the Witch," she admitted.

Father Christmas looked down at his sleigh and chuckled. "Yes, sorry about that. But, in my defense, I have been driving one of these longer than the Witch."

Ella couldn't help but smile. "It's good to see you again." But her smile then turned into a confused frown. "But, wait, how come you're here? I mean... don't take it the wrong way— I'm glad you're here, but I was told that for the past hundred years it'd been winter without Christmas."

"The Witch has, indeed, kept me out for a long time, but I have got in at last. Since Aslan is on the move, the Witch's magic is weakening."

And Ella felt herself running through her that deep shiver of gladness which you only get if you are being solemn and still.

"And now," said Father Christmas, "for your presents."

"M-_my_ presents?" Ella asked, taken aback.

And there was that warm smile every kid stayed up waiting for every Christmas eve's night. "Indeed, young princess."

"Now," he started, stepping out of his sled with that big magical bag of his. "I know there isn't need for a lecture as you know perfectly well these are tools and not toys. Bear them well." With these words, he first handed to Ella a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and gold, and across it there ramped three gold lions, each above being bigger than thus below. The hilt of the sword was of gold and black with a tinge of silver, and the sword itself had its own sheath and belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Ella to use.

Ella was silent and solemn as she received these gifts, for she felt they were a _very_ serious kind of present.

As Father Christmas dug deeper into his magic cherry red bag, Ella, unable to hold back any longer, slipped the sword out of its sheath and took a closer look at its blade. It was a real beauty, that was undeniable, but the name engraved upon it was what made up her mind.

_Richard the Lionheart_

"Father Christmas, I can't possibly take this."

"Why, of course, you can. That's what presents are for."

"It's not that. It's just that... _this_ sword... I-it belongs t—"

"To your father."

"Wel— whomever, either way, it already _belongs_ to someone."

The joyous old man chuckled. "It _belonged_ to your father, and, even if he were still here with us, Your Majesty, he would've wanted you to have it."

Ella frowned, gazing down at the name with soft eyes. "But why?" she asked in a small voice. "Yes, I am his daughter, but this... this is the sword of a _true_ warrior." She looked at him, feeling like a little girl asking her grandfather why the trees changed in the fall. "I'm nothing but an amateur who's been spending the past year either trying to get into the army or stealing medieval weapons put on display at a Bronze Age street fair!"

The wistful man chuckled once again, looking down at the young royal with fond eyes. "Answers come with time, Your Majesty; one must only be patient." Then he pulled out another set of weapons and handed it to her. It was a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn.

"I am certain you already know to use the bow only in great need," he said, "so there is no need for a lecture on that either, just know that it does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips; and blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."

She was still hesitant about the sword but took his word for it either way as she grabbed the handful of weapons. She looked at the bow and quiver full of arrows with awe, delicately placing the horn inside the pocket within her cloak.

Looking up at the man, with a small yet bright smile on her face, she placed the weapons aside, on the sled, so her hands were free, and wound her arms around the aged man in a warm hug.

"Thank you, Father Christmas," she mumbled against his thick cherry-red suit.

Smiling down at her, he returned the embrace just as warmly. "It is my pleasure, young princess, but," he pulled away, "I must now be on my way."

Almost as though she had just remembered who he was, she pulled away completely, grabbing her gifts from where she had placed them on the sleigh, and backed away, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Oh! Right, of course. Carry on, then," she told him as he mounted his sleigh. "And Merry Christmas, Sir."

"Indeed, it is now, Your Majesty." He chuckled. Then he cried out, "Merry Christmas! Long live the true Queen!" and cracked his whip, and he and the reindeer and the sled and all were out of sight before anyone realized that they had started.

Letting out a small giggle, Ella sighed. "Merry Christmas," she repeated softly, before turning on her heels and making her way back to the camping site.

* * *

Ella loved elves. Really, she did. Of course, it had nothing to do with their unusually beautiful face and body, nor their skills and abilities which were beyond what is possible for Men. No, they were simply one of the kindest, fairest and wisest beings in Narnia. And Ella loved them for that, but when it came to spending time with the female elves—as lovable and irresistible as they were— she'd rather not. Other than the love for their companions, they seemed to have an odd liking for using her as a doll and dressing her up, ever since her first time in Narnia.

That's what they were doing the next morning, and they went on and on with it for what seemed like forever to Ella, but really was only about three hours or so. Soon she was left with only one of them.

She groaned when another needle accidentally pocked her skin.

"_Goheno nin_," **(Forgive me)** apologized the elf that was fixing up the collar of the dress she had her in.

"_Am man?_" **(Why?)** Ella whined.

"_Mankoi il?_" **(Why not?)** replied the elf nonchalantly.

Ella groaned again. "You already made me wear a mop last night, why do you insist on torturing me more, Neth?"

Borneth rolled her eyes and the young princess' exaggeration. Borneth Aldaelon was one of the people Ella was closest to; they had met on her first visit to Narnia, and Ella had instantly taken a liking to her. Of course, though Ella would deny it, part of it was because Borneth was an elf and, at the time, Ella was unaware of it and their special ability to make people fall in love with them. If asked, Ella would probably say that it was because, at the time, Borneth, too, was the kind of girl that liked adventure and loved to practice her fighting skills; she, too, had wanted to become a warrior. Eventually, her thirst for that kind of thrill dulled, and her femininity took over when she found her mate. It was quite unusual for a 'teenage' elf to meet their mate so young, but, either way, though Ella missed the enthusiasm the latter would get at the mere thought of unsheathing a sword, she was glad Borneth had found her other half, even if that meant that had made her girly and a tad bit of an elven fashion maniac who loved dolling her up.

"Don't call the nightgown I made you a mop, it took me a long time to make it for you."

Ella rolled her eyes. "It took you barely an hour." She sighed, looking at herself in the mirror. She didn't look so bad.

Her usually plain-looking, pale russet skin had taken on a much softer yet vibrant tone. Her dark brown hair, though flatted and matted down into a bed-headed style, looked much more healthy, albeit having remained the dark shade it had taken on the last time she had left Narnia. Her dark eyes, though they had not regained the shine they once held when she was younger, had brightened and phased back into their beautiful hazelnut, green-specked tint.

Her eyes wandered downward as she studied herself. Borneth had put her in what felt like a fine, cotton and polyester mixed, navy blue gown that hugged her figure, following her curves. The navy blue was gorgeous against her pale russet skin; the Narnian bodice featured an eye-catching square neckline with heart-shaped décolleté made of contrasting colors, and with golden braid. The sleeves widened from the elbows, downward into a trumpet shape and had been made with brick red contrasting inserts, much like the dress' skirt, and saffron-colored braids that looked to be gold. The brick red contrasting inserts were complimented by the strappy pair of flats her feet were slipped into; they toe-tips were pointed, the overall was a deep Cabernet hue, with a pewter-colored buckle. They were airy and perfectly comfortable.

She sighed. She loved the beauty of the gowns and crowns and all, but she didn't feel as though she deserved any of it. She believed that in order to get something, one must earn it, but, so far, she had no idea how she had earned the title of a princess, never mind her biological parents having been the last King and Queen of Narnia.

"Borneth?" The latter hummed in acknowledgment. "... you've been around for a while, right?"

"Yes, why?"

Ella bit her lip, glancing over at the sword and shield Father Christmas had given her. "Have you ever... by any chance, gotten to meet my parents?"

Slightly taken aback by the sudden mention of the previous King and Queen of Narnia, Borneth looked up. "The King and Queen?" Ella nodded. "I have, once or twice, though I was very young. It was a _long_ time ago."

Of course, it was a long time ago. Borneth was an elf, and all elves were immortal, so they aged very slowly. Borneth may currently still look like a teenager, but she was well over one hundred and had come of age in elven years about half a century ago.

Ella sighed again, thinking herself stupid. She wanted to know about her parents, but... was she ready? Truthfully, no, she wasn't.

"So, who's the elf I'm going to have to challenge to see if he's worthy to have your hand?" she asked, changing the subject.

Borneth practically choked on air. "_Goheno nin?_" **(Pardon?)**

Ella laughed softly. "The elf that has claimed you his mate," she replied, pointing at the silver chained necklace with a burnished silver cobra-detailed faceted quartz crystal pendant. "You're wearing a 'claimed' stone. That, and _that—_" She pointed at the green dress the elf was wearing.

Borneth frowned. "_Man ilanwa a ma?_" **(What's wrong with it?)** she demanded.

"You used to be a corset maniac— you're not wearing a corset," Ella deadpanned.

A faint blush made its way onto Borneth's cheeks, making Ella smile softly; that woman really acted like a teenage girl sometimes.

"So what's the lucky guy's name?" she asked, gently patting the small subtle bump on Borneth's stomach.

Borneth's lips curled up into a dreamy smile as she continued to sew. "Gwaindir."

"Gwaindir, huh?" Ella's face took on a thoughtful look. She looked down at Borneth. "Are you done?"

"Wait..." Borneth cut the last string the right sleeve of the dress, then patted Ella's arm. "Done!" She stood straighter and smiled up at the young princess who was taller than her, though, her smile quickly faded when she noticed the mischievous glint in the girl's eyes.

"Oh, no," she mumbled.

"What?"

"I know that look, you're going to do something to Gwaindir, aren't you?"

Ella pulled on an innocent face. "What ever would make you think that?"

"Princess..."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Relax, I won't hurt him..." She smirked, stepping off the bench she'd been standing on for her fitting. "Much," she added under her breath. She undid the lace at the back off the dress and shrugged it off, slipping on her white trousers, followed by a corseted dress made especially for training.

"_Hiril vuin_..." **(My Lady...)** Borneth frowned slightly. "I thought you hated corsets."

"You made me wear them at a time I needn't to; I'm not exactly fond of them, but they help me keep my back straight while training." Borneth nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm off to train!" Ella said lightly, making a beeline toward her sword and shield, which were not at all the ones Father Christmas had given her the previous night.

Borneth frowned once more. "Pardon my curiosity, _Hiril vuin_, but aren't you going to use your gifts?"

Ella stopped, throwing a sideways glance at the said items; they were basically hidden from view, covered by a small silk curtain. It those weapons had come within her grasp, she would've used them without a second thought, but, now, even just glancing at them, they only reminded her that her family— the one she'd lived with and the one she'd never gotten to know— was no longer there with her, and the reminder brought her pain.

She looked away from the set, all expression dropping from her face. "Not yet." And with that, she grabbed the other sword and shield and left the tent.

Shield strapped to her back, and sword sheathed, Ella walked around the training grounds, watching the Narnian men train with their blades, while the women trained in the archery range.

She stopped by the benches and stood there, arms crossed, a small smile on her lips; this was her home. She kept glancing about for a moment before her eyes finally settled upon the centaur trotting her way.

"Here to join us, Your Majesty?"

Her smile widened slightly. "Yes, but, first, there's something I need to do." She turned to the group of Narnian men, elves, and centaurs that had begun to gather around her and Oreius. "Which one of you is Gwaindir?" A twinkle of mischief made her way into her eyes as she heard Borneth, who was not far from the training grounds now, groan.

"_Im Gwaindir,_ _Hiril vuin,_" **(I am Gwaindir, My Lady)** said a deep voice.

Ella turned to look to her right and saw him. With barely just one glance, it was clear he was quite a rebel for an elf. He was good-looking, tall and fairly muscular, his dark hair extremely short in comparison to thus of the other elves... more like men would have theirs in the army back on earth. And though his good looks were pronounced in a somewhat scruffy way, his graceful and fair elven face, which was beyond the measure of men, overpowered that scruffiness.

Ella's brows furrowed slightly as she tilted her head to the side, studying his face a bit more; he looked a bit familiar.

"So you're Gwaindir," said Ella. Her eyes squinted a tad bit as she bit her lower lip. "_Caela lye omente n'ala?_" **(Have we met before?)**

He frowned a bit. "_... Ú-iston, n'an, be tanya vee' ta lotesse, ta naa quite deanam lye caela,_" **(... I don't know, though, be that as it may, it is quite possible we have)** he replied.

Putting that matter aside, a smirk made its way onto her lips. "Well, on another note, I challenge you to a duel."

The crowd that had been surrounding them backed away slightly.

An amused smile made its way onto the elf's lips. "And may I know why?"

"Yes, you may," Ella replied with a nod. "I happen to care deeply for Borneth, and, so, I want to make sure fate has chosen the right missing half for her."

That seemed to be the right button to push.

"Alright." He accepted with a nod of his own. "My Lady?" He motioned toward a more open part of the training grounds; the circular arena, which was purposefully parted for duels. The arena was surrounded by bleachers, which soon filled itself with spectators as the dueling pair walked to the center of the arena.

"You have to disarm me from my sword and shield. You have three tries."

"Three tries?" Gwaindir chuckled, a slightly cocky smirk on his face. "Any rules?"

"Nope." Ella smiled. "Ready?" she asked, assuming an en garde position. Gwaindir's brows raised in a surprise as he appraised the young girl; for a girl, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing.

"_Nelde?_" **(Three?)**

She shrugged. "_Mankoi il?_" **(Why not?)**

And he attacked. The two of them stood in one place, trading feints, thrusts, and parries.

"You know what you're doing, I'll give you that," said Gwaindir. "Excellent form... but how's your footwork? If I step here—" He took a step around an imaginary circle. Ella stepped the other way, maintaining her relationship to Gwaindir. "Very good! And if I step again, you step again—"Continuing to step around the circle, he said, "And so we circle, circle, like dogs we circle."

They were now exactly opposite to their initial positions. It was when Gwaindir felt less heavy that he realized something.

"Where's my shield?" He paused and looked around the arena, only to find it there, on the ground, a few feet away from them. "When did that get there?"

"That's one try, and you lost your shield," said Ella, chuckling.

And he attacked once more. The two of them moved more about, trading harder feints, thrusts, and parries, with lightning speed, almost impossible to follow. Ella had no trouble matching the elf, though, soon, she found herself missing her shield as well.

She paused, giving him a praising nod. "Second try, and I've lost my shield." She smirked. "You've got one left, _Mellon_." **(Friend.)**

With one nod, he began to circle her, as she stood patiently, watching, waiting for his next move. He lunged forward, though, within a matter of seconds she hit the base of his blade and twisted effortlessly before a loud _Clang_ rattled.

She smirked. "Come on, I'm sure you were taught better that," she said as he lunged towards her again, another loud _Clang_ rattling only to follow a loud thump.

Gwaindir's sword was under her foot as he laid down flat on the floor on his back, with a sword resting on his silver breastplate. It was silent for a moment before the crowd began to cheer for the princess, who was smirking down at the elf.

_No_. It wasn't a smirk, he realized. It was a prideful grin. But why did it hold pride? She beat _him_.

She sheathed her sword and offered him a hand, which he gladly took.

"_Lye **caela** omente n'ala_," **(We _have_ met before)** she said. "I remember now." She smiled. "Dirri!"

His brows furrowed for a moment before raising, eyes widened, finally coming to realize who she was as he recalled the only person who used to call him that.

"Princess Ella!"

And they both embraced each other like the good friends they were. Gwaindir Felvanthar, much like Borneth, was one of the first elves she had met her first time in Narnia. He, too, had quickly become her friend and had been the one to first teach her a bit about how to wield a sword, before Oreius took it upon himself to train her as Gwaindir himself had been but a beginner at the time.

"It's been so long, Princess."

She laughed, as Oreius had told her the same thing the other night. "Indeed it has been, Dirri," she said, making him laugh. She had given him that nickname when they first met as she thought his own name was quite the tongue tier.

Ella then spent the rest of the day training, then catching up with a few other old friends. It wasn't until evening, when she made her way back to her tent, that she found Borneth waiting for her with another gown. She took a quick bath, washing away the sweat, dirt, and grime from the day's training, before putting on the dark orange bodice. She was relieved it had no corset, though it was slightly larger on her body.

"It's only for now," said Borneth, as she delicately brushed and curled each one of Ella's brown locks. "I have noted down your measurements from this morning to make you some clothing your own size."

"It's simple," said Ella as she began to trace the golden patterns on her sleeves. "Simple and beautiful; I like it."

Borneth smiled. "You look like your mother, you know." Ella's head snapped up, her eyes looking at Borneth, who stood behind her, through the looking glass. "I _was_ _very_ young at the time, but, I still remember bits of what I'd gotten to know of the King and Queen. You are very much like them, _Hiril vuin_. You have the Queen's kindness, the King's bravery."

Ella shook her head, frowning down at the ground. "What's worth being kind and brave, if I can probably be the worst princess? I mean, I wear dresses, I think they're pretty and all, but I don't like wearing them! Back in London, I have to wear them and wear heels when I leave the house; if I don't, people look at me weirdly for wearing trousers and boots."

Borneth chuckled. "I'm not a princess, but I know that to be one, you don't have to always do your best and be perfect." She turned Ella around so she would face her. "To be a great royal, you must, first and foremost, be noble, selfless, trusting and faithful, humble, kind, respectable and admirable. And, Ella," She placed her hands on the princess' shoulders. "You are all of the above and more. A princess is a princess regardless of her attire." She paused, placing the rhinestone tiara on Ella's head. "Or her circumstances, and, you, Princess Ella, _are_ a princess. A great one."

She turned her once more so they were both face the small opening of the tent, where the castle was in perfect sight.

"And one day," Borneth continued softly. "At Cair Paravel of the five thrones, you will sit as Queen. _High_ Queen, and you will be incredible."

Ella stared at the castle for a moment, fighting back tears from the encouraging speech she'd just been given, before turning to Borneth and giving her a warm smile filled with fondness. She opened her mouth, about to reply, when, suddenly, she was cut off by loud whinnying. Both sharing a frown, they rushed outside to find a growing crowd speaking rather loudly.

"What's going on?" Ella asked one of the Narnians.

A dryad answered her. "There seems to be a fight going on between two stallions, Your Majesty."

"Are they going hard at each other? Why doesn't anyone stop them?"

"A few have tried, but these two seem to be wild."

Ella let out a tired sigh. "Oh, _Aute_," **(God,)** she mumbled. She began to push her way through the crowd, and, finally, in front of it, she could see them; a black and a white unicorn going at each other rather savagely.

Eyes widening, she stepped forward, causing the crowd to lower their volume and step back. "Hey!" The battle faltered a bit, for a moment, at the sound of her voice, before galloping further into the trees, still raging at each other. "Hey, stop!" But neither listened to her.

Ella groaned, pulling her crown out of her hair and tossing it over to Borneth.

"Your Majesty, you can't possibly be thinking of—"

"I have to. If I don't, they'll kill each other, and I can't let that happen," said Ella, turning to another Narnian. "Pass me your sword, please."

"_Hiril vuin_, are you sure—"

"I'm perfectly and utterly certain," she cut him off, tying the sword belt around her waist. "I won't use this, but... just in case, you know?" She glanced around. "Anyone got a rope?" And she was handed one. "Anyone a healer?"

"We are," two voices replied in unison.

Ella turned and found two twin elves who looked oddly familiar. It was when her eyes fell upon their whitish blonde hair that she recognized who they were; it was Raina and Egleriel Aldaelon, Borneth's older sisters.

Ella smiled slightly, happy to see them again after so long. "Be ready for whoever comes back first."

The twins were confused at what she meant by that, but, before they could even ask anything, Ella had turned away from them.

"Philip!"

And a chestnut colored stallion came cantering toward her. Throwing the rolled up rope over her head so that it hung around her neck, she ran forward, then, barely a foot away, she jumped, gracefully landing on his saddle.

Grabbing the horse's reins, she shouted, "Go!" And she soon found herself flying through the woods. "Go as fast as you can, Philip, we need to keep them from leaving the camp's perimeters, or else the Witch will get to them!" she instructed.

"Of course, Your Majesty." And he pushed harder on his hooves, galloping with lightning speed.

After what felt like forever, Philip slowed his pace as they heard the faint clashing of horns. She pulled on his reins to slow him into a silent trot as they rounded a few trees that led into a small clearing.

Slowing into a stop, Ella leaned forward. "I'll try to separate them. I'll probably manage to get through the white one first. When I do, I'll send you a signal and I want you to lead him back to camp," she whispered into the stallion's ear.

"Will you be alright with the other, My Lady?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine," she said, as she dismounted the horse. "Stay here."

She waited for a moment until both steeds were at a good distance from each other before approaching them. Taking a few cautious steps toward the bloody stallions, she felt her breath get caught up in her throat when her foot stepped on a tree branch. The noise emitting from the break wasn't so loud, but it was loud enough to catch her preys' attention.

She bit her lip, holding her breath as they both turned to look at her, eyes still on fire. Her heartbeat picked up a few notches when she heard Philip take a step forward, probably worried for her well being.

Everything was still.

Then, suddenly, a red light began to blink in the back of Ella's head as she noticed the black stallion's eyes go wide as his ears pinned themselves down on his head which had elevated.

"Oh, no." She knew what that meant.

Nose flaring, the stallion spread his front legs out to the sides and leaned forward, glaring straight at her. Philip took another step forward, but Ella quickly raised a hand.

"Philip, don't!"

But it was too late; the white unicorn had run off in one direction as the black one reared and stroke forward. Eyes wide, Ella quickly jumped to the side, out of his way, rolling on the ground, landing in a kneeling crouch. He stopped short before he could hit a tree and end up with his horn stuck in it. He turned and glared at her, nose flaring, exhaling steam through his nostrils from the cold.

Without wasting another second, he turned and ran off as well, in the direction opposing the one the white unicorn ran in.

"Your Majesty," Philip called out as he trotted over to her. "Are you alright?"

Ella nodded, pushing herself onto her feet. "We're going after the white one, I'll get the black one in a moment," she said as she mounted him.

They found the white unicorn bathing itself in a stream. The blood washing away from its fur and its hair, it was truly beautiful, its hair looking like a river of silver under the moonlight. his head snapped up when he heard Philip's hooves stop a few feet away from the shore. Ella dismounted him and looked at the white unicorn straight in the eyes.

"Careful, Your Majesty," said Philip, as they both watched the white creature turn his back to them and lower his head to drink some water from the stream.

"Always," she replied, approaching the white stallion.

His back was facing her, head dropped, and ears hanging to the side; he was relaxed, but only slightly as his muscles were rigid and his movements were stiff. Ella let out a small whistle to catch his attention; she couldn't startle him, especially after what had happened not even five minutes ago.

She looked up at his head and noticed how his ears unpinned themselves from it and turned back in her direction; he was listening... and, apparently contemplating whether to run away or turn around and check out the sound that had emitted from the young girl. She could guess he knew it was her as his tail was swishing; that meant he was tense and wary, and a stallion would only be so if they were distrusting toward you.

"Hey, there," she said softly.

The unicorn's head elevated and turned; he was focused on her and solely on her now; and it was clear he was, once again, trying to figure out whether he should flee, or figure her out, though he did not move from his spot. His muzzle had tightened, as well as the muscles around his eyes. His eyes were darting rapidly, flicking from side to side, his front legs were spread out to the sides as he leaned back a little and his whole body was trembling; he was scared.

Eyes never leaving his, she stepped closer. "Hey, it's okay," she said softly, staring straight into his dark little eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. _I promise_."

She stepped forward, and, she wasn't sure why, but she found herself bowing at the creature. It lasted for barely a second before looking back up at it. The unicorn was still staring haughtily at her. It didn't move. Feeling as though it were challenging her, Ella did not move either. But then, to Ella's surprise, the stallion suddenly bent its front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

Feeling a bit more confident, Ella moved slowly toward the unicorn and reached out toward it. She patted the muzzle several times and the stallion closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. After a moment, she began to pull her hand away, though it quickly elevated its head and reached out to touch her with his muzzle, trying to nip her, as though he was finally searching for a little bit of reassurance within her.

"You're hurt," she said softly. "Will you let me take you back with me and Philip so we can have someone care for you?" The stallion backed away a bit when she said 'someone'. "Don't worry, they won't hurt you, I won't let them; _I promise_."

Relaxing a bit more, he watched as she pulled the rope from where it hung around her neck.

Eyes never leaving him, Ella let her hands move on their own. First, she tied a loose overhand knot, creating a loop in the rope, to then pass one end of the rope through it, keeping it loose. Then, she passed the tail end of the rope back through the knot. Taking the shorter "tail" end of the rope in her hand, she pulled that end of the rope around and over the loop she had first made, threading the length of rope between the outside of the looped portion of the overhand knot and itself. After that, she carefully tightened the knot without pulling the tail end through. She pulled on the slack end of the rope and the new loop she had just made, and, as she did this, she was careful not to pull the tail end of the rope back through the knot.

When finished, she had created a Honda knot, all in less than two minutes. Finally, she simply passed the long slack end of her rope through the small loop in the Honda knot to create a functional lasso. She was ready and done with it, she stepped forward, raising the lasso toward the stallion's head. He let her tie it on him, closing his eyes slightly, enjoying her soft touch. She gently pulled on the slack end of the rope, tightening the lasso around his neck so it wouldn't slip off. Not letting go, she rounded the unicorn till she stood on his left side.

"Philip and I are going to lead you to Aslan's camp, alright? You're going to be taken good care of."

The way back was a lot more calm. There was still a bit of tension in the air, but the white stallion seemed to be more trusting toward the princess. When they reached the edge of the camp, the Aldaelon twins rushed over to tend them. While they were tending the unicorn, Philip was being fed, and Ella was being tended by another healer as well after being changed into a different gown. The gown was not a form-fitting gown, though, it was more of a baggy chemise style gown that roped in at the waistline with a golden ribbon tie. It was black and much more simple than the orange one she had been previously wearing, but it had its own beauty. Albeit the beauty of it and the relief of having someone take good care of her, Ella's mind was elsewhere.

"You're not going back there, are you?" asked Raina.

Ella's eyes shifted from where they stared off into the forest to the unusually short elf, as she sighed. "I must."

"But it's dangerous outside the border," Egleriel interjected.

"I _have_ to go," Ella repeated with another sigh. "If I let him go off any further, she'll get him." She looked back at the forest and let out another heavy sigh, shaking her head, as she stood. "I can let that happen."

The twins let out a synchronized sigh. "At least take more than just a rope," said Egleriel.

"Just in case, you know?" Raina added, offering the young princess a bag, but Ella shook her head.

"I don't need anything except maybe this rope," she said, leaning down and grabbing the rope she had used earlier on the white unicorn. Neatly rolled up, though, with one edge of it still tied in a lasso, she began to make her way back toward the trees but stopped when she felt tugging on the skirt of her gown. She turned and saw that it was the unicorn she had just brought back with her.

She frowned, uncertainty clear in her face. "What is it?" He tugged on her gown again, then pulled away and nodded his head toward the forest, neighing lowly. "Are you saying you want to come?"

The unicorn neighed in confirmation, nodding his head.

"Are you sure?"

Neigh.

Ella sighed. "I'm not letting you two get into another fight. I'll let you give me a ride, but as soon as we're close enough to him, you're coming back here, alright?"

The unicorn nodded, leaning on his hind legs downward for her to climb onto his back. As soon as she had settled onto his bare back, they went off to find the black stallion. Ella actually regretted not asking for help when she found the black unicorn to be much more difficult to tame. After sending the white unicorn back to camp, she caught the dark stallion's eye an held his gaze. Like in their previous encounter, a red light began to blink in the back of Ella's head as the black stallion's eyes went wide and his ears pinned themselves down on his head which had elevated.

She huffed. "Not again," she muttered to herself.

Nose flaring, the stallion spread his front legs out to the sides and leaned forward, glaring straight at her. Ella quickly raised a hand, trying to get him to stop.

"No, don't!"

But it was too late; eyes wide, Ella quickly jumped to the side, out of his way, rolling on the ground, landing in a kneeling crouch. He stopped short before he could hit a tree and end up with his horn stuck in it. He turned and glared at her, nose flaring, exhaling steam through his nostrils from the cold.

Ella swallowed hard, pushing herself onto her feet. "Please, just wait!"

He stopped at her plead and relaxed, but only slightly as his muscles were rigid and his movements were stiff. She looked up at his head and noticed how his ears unpinned themselves from it and turned back in her direction; she had his undivided attention, though she could tell that he was contemplating whether to run away or attack her. She knew she had to be careful as he was tense and wary; that meant he was distrusting toward her.

"Hey," she said softly.

The unicorn's eyes focused on her and solely on her now and, though they did not stop flickering about, it was clear he was, once again, trying to figure out whether he should flee, attack her, or figure her out. However, he did not move from his spot. His muzzle tightened, as well as the muscles around his eyes. His eyes were darting rapidly, flicking from side to side, his front legs were spread out to the sides as he leaned back a little and his whole body was trembling; he was just as scared as the white unicorn had been.

Eyes never leaving his, she stepped closer. "Hey, it's okay," she said softly, staring straight into his dark little eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you, I just want to help you, I swear."

She stepped forward, and, opting to approach him the way she had done with the white stallion, she bowed. It lasted for barely a second before looking back up at it. The unicorn was still staring fiercely at her. It didn't move. It was a challenge; Ella did not move either. But then, to her surprise, like the white unicorn, the stallion bent its front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

Feeling a bit more confident, Ella moved slowly toward the unicorn and reached out toward it. She patted the muzzle several times and the stallion closed its eyes tiredly. After a moment, she began to pull her hand away, though it quickly elevated its head and reached out to touch her with his muzzle, trying to nip her, as though he was finally searching for a little bit of reassurance within her.

"You're hurt too," she said softly. "Will you let me take you back with me, so I can have someone care for you?"

Suddenly, the stallion reared at her words.

"Don't worry, they won't hurt you; _I promise_."

Relaxing a bit more, he watched as she pulled the rope from where it hung around her neck.

Eyes never leaving him, Ella stepped forward, raising the lasso toward the stallion's head. He let her tie it on him, closing his eyes slightly, enjoying her soft touch. She gently pulled on the slack end of the rope, tightening the lasso around his neck so it wouldn't slip off. Not letting go, she rounded the unicorn till she stood on his left side. She placed a hand on his bare back and waited a moment before he began to subconsciously lower himself. When he was low enough for her to leap over him, she climbed on and tensed slightly when she felt the horned horse go rigid for a moment before taking off, barely giving her the time to hold on to the rope around his neck like a rein as he began to buck around wildly.

The rodeo ride surprisingly lasted longer than three minutes as Ella held on for dear life, her legs practically digging into his sides. As though taking an ultimatum decision, the stallion took off further into the forest, going as far as galloping through a path filled with thick thorny bushes, consequentially cutting through his flesh as well Ella's, also practically destroying her gown.

Eventually, when the black stallion reached the peak of a cliff, stopped and back up a little. She felt it and smiled in spite of her tired self, knowing what he was about to do. The unicorn shifted its weight strongly to its hindquarters and, with a balanced rear, let out the strongest whinny she had ever heard a stallion, of any sort, emit. It was strong, loud and powerful, and she knew what that meant; he had accepted her as his rider, commander— leader.

She suddenly burst into a spontaneous fit of joyful laughter, which echoed throughout the trees, mingling with the loud, powerful whinny. The trees shuddered slightly, a few wood nymphs stretching out of their barks to watch the scenery with a smile on each of their faces. Sighing, she leaned forward, bringing the stallion back to the ground before tugging lightly on the lasso as a signal to turn the other way. When they reached the edge of the camp, the black stallion halted, almost seeming shy to step into the clearly welcoming territory. Understanding his hesitation, she leaned forward and patted the top of his head, between his ears, as best as she could in a comforting manner.

"_Av-'osto_," **(Don't be afraid)** she said softly. "No one will hurt you, I assure you."

Taking her word, the unicorn slowly cantered forward, stiffening slightly when it passed the white stallion. She knew what he was thinking; she tugged on the lasso, causing the black stallion to glance back at her.

"Vá," **(Don't)** she said, jerking her head back as she spoke. The black unicorn neighed, seemingly in complaint. She shook her head. "No. Whatever conflict you two had ends now," she spoke loudly, shifting her eyes between each stallion; she knew the white unicorn was listening as his ears were unpinned from his head and turned in her direction.

The white unicorn's head elevated and turned as she slid down from the black stallions back and tugged him his way. He quickly stood, eyeing the princess and his former opponent warily; he trusted the princess, but he couldn't help but be cautious with the black unicorn around.

She gave them both a warning look. "I mean it. I get it you're both territorial and proud; it's in your nature. But, right now, we're all going through a hard time. This," she gestured around the camp, "is the safest place in Narnia at this very moment. After the war, you can go back to fighting each other for whatever reason, but right now I need you two to put that aside and heal. If you want to fight, save it for the battle ahead, but right now I want you to stop, shake... do whatever you do that resembles a handshake, part in peace or whatever and work with me because I am honestly tired." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

She could feel a few fellow Narnians watching her as she tried to settle a peace treaty between the unicorns, but she ignored the stares and kept shifting her glance between the unicorns.

"Do we have an accord?"

The stallions seemed to have engaged into a staring competition. A few moments later, they looked at her and neighed, bringing a smile onto her face.

The two unicorns got along surprisingly well when they weren't fighting for pride or territory, Ella noted later that night. She stood by the silvery river, dressed in a pearl-white gown and black cloak, her hair pinned up and back, her slight fringe pushed backward with her crown, unable to fight back a smile as she watched the two stallions interact calmly, further down the river, communicating through their own language.

She sighed, looking down at her Christmas presents, her hand caressing the smooth cold blade with the texture of its engraving under her finger tips.

"You doubt the prophecy."

Ella glanced back and gave Aslan a small smile. "I don't know the prophecy," she admitted. "No one's told me... but, frankly, I don't even think that would be it either."

"You believe it's not who you are."

"I don't know who I am," she said softly. "I'm stuck between someone I grew up to be, and someone who I'm destined to be." She paused, her lips pursing slightly. "There's someone I know I _could_ be, but what's stopping from what I _could_... is who I _should_ be. What's stopping from what I _could_ and _should, _however, is my indecision of who I _want_ to be." She paused again. "I don't know who I want to be anymore because everything I do is strained between possibilities, destinies, and desires. It's driving me mad! What's worse is that every step I take on the old creaking bridge... every move is relented by a hesitation due to a possible mistake that will only be overlooked."

"You question the faith Narnians have in you," Aslan stated.

Ella glanced down at the sword on her lap. "It's just... everyone I meet... they _all_ say the same thing. That there's something special about me, and I have a bright future ahead of me, but why?! I don't understand the psychology of this. It happens, at least, with ninety-four percent of the people I meet. It's like... there's this friend of my grandfather's; he— he doesn't even know me, yet the first time he saw me, he told one of my friends that I seem like a special kid. It's like they don't even look for my flaws like they do to others. If I make one mistake... will they acknowledge it?"

"You doubt yourself."

"I doubt the reasons they have to trust me... why do they all have so much faith in me?"

The lion's eyes were kind and soft as they gazed down at the princess. "Sometimes it is difficult to see the better parts of ourselves because we inevitably are focused on the parts we want to change. Just try every once in a while to see what they see too and stop being so hard on yourself. Life is a choice, it will be whatever we make of it."

Ella's brows furrowed as she looked back at the flowing river, contemplating his every word. The great lion turned to leave the young princess to herself when, suddenly, he was stopped by her calling him out.

"Aslan?"

He turned back to find her standing, looking up at him with the look of a lost little girl. She looked at the ground for a moment before mustering up the courage to ask him what she'd been yearning to know.

"Who are you to me?" she asked in a small voice.

The Great King regarded her with soft dark eyes, letting out a small growl that blew a gentle breeze over her face.

"Wrong will be right when Aslan and his scion come in sight," he recited. "At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more. When his scion bares thou teeth, winter meets its death... And when the great lion shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."

She looked at him for a long moment before looking down at the ground, eyes wide as she took in every word. After a long moment of silence, she glanced back up at him, her eyes watering with a new twinkle in them.

"Grandpapa?" she whispered.

A deep rumble emitted from his chest, and she ran up to him, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.


	10. Into the wardrobe, then into the forest

**Into the wardrobe, then into the... forest?!**

This house of the Professor's— which even he knew so little about— was so old and famous that people from all over England used to come and ask permission to see over it. It was the sort of house that is mentioned in guidebooks and even in histories; and well it might be, for all manner of stories were told about it, some of them even stranger than the one I am telling you now. And when parties of sightseers arrived and asked to see the house, the Professor always gave them permission, and Missus Macready, the housekeeper, showed them around, telling them about the pictures and the armor, and the rare books in the library. Though Ella was clearly the only exception, Missus Macready was not fond of children and did not like to be interrupted when she was telling visitors all the things she knew.

She had said to Susan and Peter almost on the first morning (along with a good many other instructions), "And please remember you're to keep out of the way whenever I'm taking a party over the house."

"Just as if any of us would want to waste half the morning trailing round with a crowd of strange grown-ups!" said Edmund, and the other three thought the same. That was how the adventures began for the second time.

A few mornings later Peter and Edmund were looking at the suit of armor and wondering if they could take it to bits when the two girls rushed into the room and said, "Look out! Here comes the Macready and a whole gang with her."

"Let's go outside, it's _much less_ crowded," said Peter, and all four made off down the stairs and outside to play some cricket.

Lucy went to sit by herself under a tree shade, a book opened on her lap, though she was not really reading it; she was wondering where Ella could be. She'd been missing for six days now, counting the current day. Was it possible that she had finally gone back to Narnia? Lucy gasped— was it possible that she, herself, would go back to Narnia? As usual, her fantasies were cut short by her siblings loud speaking.

"Peter winds up, goes for the bowl!" Peter exclaimed as he threw the ball.

Edmund grunted when it hit his leg. "Ow!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Whoops! Wake up, Dolly Daydream!"

Edmund sighed. "Can't we play hide and go seek again?"

"I thought you said that it was a kid's game."

"Besides, we can all use the fresh air," Susan chimed in.

"Not like there's air inside," Edmund grumbled sarcastically.

"You know why we can't. The Macready would bust us for interrupting her tour."

"I still think it's stupid," Edmund muttered. "Bringing people to give them a tour of the house."

Rolling his eyes, Peter called out to him. "Are you ready then?"

Feeling challenged, Edmund replied, "Are you?" as he smacked his bat on the ground, getting ready to hit the ball.

Peter pitched the ball, hard, and Edmund whacked it good and it smashed through an upstairs window, crashing into a suit of armor. They all ran back inside to find the suit of armor the Pevensie boys had been staring at earlier that day.

"Well, that took it down to bits." Peter sighed, shaking his head. "Well done, Ed!"

Edmund glared at him. "You bowled it!"

Susan quickly hushed them. "Listen, Missus Macready is coming!"

"Sharp's the word," said Peter, and all four made off through the door at the far end of the room.

But when they had got out into the Green Room and beyond it, into the Library, they suddenly heard voices ahead of them, and realized that Missus Macready must be bringing her party of sightseers up the back stairs— instead of up the front stairs as they had expected. And after that— whether it was that they lost their heads, or that Missus Macready was trying to catch them, or that some magic in the house had come to life and was chasing them into Narnia they seemed to find themselves being followed everywhere.

At last Susan said, "Oh bother those trippers! Here— let's get into the Wardrobe Room till they've passed. No one will follow us in there."

But the moment they were inside they heard the voices in the passage— and then someone fumbling at the door— and then they saw the handle turning.

"Quick!" said Peter, "there's nowhere else," and flung open the wardrobe.

All four of them bundled inside it and sat there, panting, in the dark. Peter held the door closed but did not shut it; for, of course, he remembered, as every sensible person does, that you should never _ever_ shut yourself up in a wardrobe.

"I wish the Macready would hurry up and take all these people away," said Susan presently, "I'm getting horribly cramped."

"And what a filthy smell of camphor!" said Edmund.

"I expect the pockets of these coats are full of it," said Susan, "to keep away the moths."

"There's something sticking into my back," said Peter.

"And isn't it cold?" said Susan.

"Now that you mention it, it is cold," said Peter, "and hang it all, it's wet too. What's the matter with this place? I'm sitting on something wet. It's getting wetter every minute." He struggled to his feet.

"Let's get out," said Edmund, "they've gone."

"O-o-oh!" said Susan suddenly. "Peter?"

"What?"

"Are your trousers wet?"

Peter and Susan looked down to see they were sitting on a patch of snow. Holding their breaths, they turned slowly, eyes widening in shock as they stepped out of the wardrobe. Now there was no mistaking it and all four children stood blinking in the daylight of a winter day. Behind them were coats hanging on pegs, in front of them were snow-covered trees. Peter and Susan gaped in amazement, craning their heads to look up at the treetops.

"Impossible!" Susan breathed out, glancing around in shock.

"Don't worry..." Lucy casually stepped up next to them. "I'm sure it's just your imagination."

Susan finally blinked. "Oh, my gosh!"

And Peter looked down at Lucy. "I don't suppose saying we're sorry would quite cover it."

She regarded him with a serious look on her face as she shook her head. "You're right. It wouldn't." A smirk then made its way onto her face as she pulled out a snowball and whipped it at Peter. "But that might!"

The three of them scrambled into a brief, wild snowball fight, which only ended, however, when an errant snowball flew through the air and hit a very guilty-looking Edmund in the face.

"Ow! Stop it!"

The fight stopped and they all stared at him, Peter and Susan finally realizing he had indeed lied.

Peter gave a low whistle. "You little liar!" He shook his head in disbelief. "You _were_ here, weren't you?"

Edmund wiped the snow from his cheek, defiant. "You didn't believe her either."

Susan sighed. "Ed, don't— "

"Apologize to Lucy," Peter demanded.

"It was just a joke," Edmund defended himself.

"Say you're sorry!" Peter grabbed Edmund and twisted his arm.

Lucy stared at them with wide eyes. "Stop it! You're hurting him!"

"Say it," Peter ordered.

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Alright! I'm sorry."

Peter looked at Edmund, disgusted, then walked as far away from him as he could. The Pevensies stayed there for a moment, just standing there in silence until Susan decided to break it.

"Maybe we should go back," she said.

Edmund just stared through the trees as two dark hills in the distance.

"I think Lucy should decide what we do," said Peter, looking down at Lucy, who instantly smiled.

"Let's go see Mister Tumnus!"

Peter smiled. "Mister Tumnus, it is."

Susan frowned, looking down at their clothes. "We can't go hiking in the snow dressed like this."

Peter glanced back then reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a fur coat, handing it to Susan. She looked from the wardrobe to a pine tree. "... I really don't understand."

Lucy reached in and grabbed a coat of her own. "I suppose the Professor wouldn't mind us using them."

Peter took a coat for himself. "Well really, we're not even taking them out of the wardrobe." He grabbed reached back inside side, then handed Edmund a particularly feminine coat.

The younger boy glared up at him. "That's a girl's coat!"

Peter gave him a blank look. "I know." And he simply shoved the coat at Edmund, who grabbed it, sullen.

The coats were rather too big for them so that they came down to their heels and looked more like royal robes than coats when they had put them on. But they all felt a good deal warmer and each thought the others looked better in their new get-up and more suitable to the landscape.

"We can pretend we are Arctic explorers," Lucy mused.

"This is going to be exciting enough without pretending," said Peter, as he began leading the way forward into the forest. There were heavy darkish clouds overhead and it looked as if there might be more snow before night.

"I say," began Edmund presently, "oughtn't we to be bearing a bit more to the left, that is, if we are aiming for the lamp-post?"

He had forgotten for the moment that he must pretend never to have been in the wood before. The moment the words were out of his mouth he realized that he had given himself away. Everyone stopped; everyone stared at him.

Peter whistled again. "So you really were here," he said, "that time Lu said she'd met you in here— and you made out she was telling lies." There was a dead silence. "Well, of all the poisonous little beasts—" said Peter, and shrugged his shoulders and said no more.

There seemed, indeed, no more to say, and presently the four resumed their journey; but Edmund was saying to himself, "I'll pay you all out for this, you pack of stuck-up, self-satisfied prigs."

"Are you sure we're even going the right way, Peter? We've never even been here," said Susan, chiefly for the sake of changing the subject, as she motioned to him and herself. "I think Lu ought to be the leader since she knows where the... Faun is."

Lucy smiled widely and nodded as the rest of them agreed to this and off they went walking briskly and stamping their feet. Lucy proved a good leader. At first, she wondered whether she would be able to find the way, but she recognized an odd-looking tree on one place and a stump in another and brought them on to where the ground became uneven and into the little valley and at last to the very door of Mister Tumnus's cave. But, there, a terrible surprise awaited them.

She gasped and ran forward.

"Lucy!" Peter exclaimed himself in surprise before running after her, Susan and Edmund at his heels.

Lucy stopped a few feet away, mouth fallen open as she stared at the disaster before her with eyes widened in shock. Her siblings stopped right behind her, their expressions that of shock as well.

The door had been wrenched off its hinges and broken to bits. Inside, the cave was dark and cold and had the damp feel and smell of a place that had not been lived in for several days. Snow had drifted in from the doorway and was heaped on the floor, mixed with something black, which turned out to be the charred sticks and ashes from the fire. Someone had apparently flung it about the room and then stamped it out. The crockery lay smashed on the floor and the picture of the Faun's father had been slashed into shreds with a knife.

"This is a pretty good wash-out," said Edmund; "not much good coming here."

"What is this?" said Peter, stooping down. He had just noticed a piece of paper which had been nailed through the carpet to the floor.

"Is there anything written on it?" asked Susan.

"Yes, I think there is," answered Peter, "but I can't read it in this light. Let's get out into the open air."

They all went out in the daylight and crowded round Peter as he read out the following words:

_The former occupant of these premises, the Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge of High Treason against her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc., also of comforting her said Majesty's enemies, harboring spies and fraternizing with Humans._

_Signed Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police,_

_LONG LIVE THE QUEEN_

The children stared at each other.

"I don't know that I'm going to like this place after all," said Susan.

"Who is this Queen, Lu?" said Peter. "Do you know anything about her?"

"She isn't a real queen at all," answered Lucy; "she's a horrible witch, the White Witch. Everyone—even the wood people— hate her. She has made an enchantment over the whole country so that it is always winter here and never Christmas."

"I- I wonder if there's any point in going on," said Susan. "I mean, it doesn't seem particularly safe here and it looks as if it won't be much fun either. And it's getting colder every minute, and we've brought nothing to eat. What about just going home?"

"Oh, but we can't, we can't," said Lucy suddenly; "don't you see? We can't just go home, not after this. It is all on my account that the poor Faun has got into this trouble. He hid me from the Witch and showed me the way back. That's what it means by comforting the Queen's enemies and fraternizing with Humans. We simply must try to rescue him."

"A lot we could do!" said Edmund, "when we haven't even got anything to eat!"

"Shut up— you!" said Peter, who was still very angry with Edmund. "What do you think, Susan?"

"I've got a horrid feeling that Lu is right," said Susan. "I don't want to go a step further and I wish we'd never come. But I think we must try to do something for Mister Whatever-his-name is—I mean the Faun."

"That's what I feel too," said Peter. "I'm worried about having no food with us. I'd vote for going back and getting something from the larder, only there doesn't seem to be any certainty of getting into this country again when once you've got out of it. I think we'll have to go on."

"So do I," said both the girls.

"If only we knew where the poor chap was imprisoned!" said Peter.

Susan glared at him. "Now you're giving me second thoughts, Peter! We should go back."

Peter rolled his eyes at her. "You just said—"

"I know what I said," she cut him off. "But like _you_ said, we don't know where he was taken. It could be _far away_ from here, and it could take us days!" She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "We should really go back."

Lucy looked up at her in disbelief. "But we have to help him!"

Peter sighed. He agreed with Lucy on helping her friend, but Susan was right too. "It's out of our hands now Lu."

"But you think that because you don't get it, do you? I'm the Human!" she exclaimed. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. _Ella would've helped me..._

Peter pursed his lips, eyes shifting between the note and his little sister. "Maybe we should call the police," he suggested.

Susan face-palmed herself. "Have you suddenly gone amnesiac after reading the letter? These are the police!"

Lucy sighed. "This is all my fault," she whimpered.

Peter looked down at her and sighed. "No, it's not—"

She jabbed at the paper. "I'm the Human!" she repeated. "Mister Tumnus has been arrested for not handing me over. But how could they have known?"

Edmund scowled, turning away from the group.

"What kind of Queen does this?" Peter wondered in shock.

Lucy scowled. "She's not a Queen, she's a terrible Witch! And she'll do something horrible, like turn him into stone."

Susan looked at her with wide eyes. "What?"

Lucy nodded. "That's what Mister Tumnus said."

"We can hardly take his word for it," Edmund muttered. They all turned to glare at him and he instantly got defensive and pointed at the warrant. "Well, he's a criminal!"

Lucy glared at him for the first time. "No, he's not."

Before anyone could say anything else, a "Psst" echoed from outside. Susan gaped out the doorway, where a Robin hopped from one branch to the next.

"Did that bird just 'psst' us?" Susan asked, somewhat frightened by the idea of an animal actually talking.

Edmund and Peter were just as shocked, though Lucy, who was taking it in rather well, wondered if birds could talk in Narnia. After all, she did find Narnia through a wardrobe, and she had met a Faun, so talking animals should be possible too, right?

She turned to the Robin and said, "Please, can you tell us where Tumnus the Faun has been taken to?"

As she said this she took a step towards the bird. It at once flew away but only as far as to the next tree. There it perched and looked at them very hard as if it understood all they had been saying. Almost without noticing that they had done so, the four children went a step or two nearer to it. At this, the Robin flew away again to the next tree and once more looked at them very hard.

"Do you know," said Lucy, "I really believe he means us to follow him."

"I've an idea he does," said Susan. "What do you think, Peter?"

Peter sighed. "Well, we might as well try it," he answered.

The Robin appeared to understand the matter thoroughly. It kept going from tree to tree, always a few yards ahead of them, but always so near that they could easily follow it. In this way, it led them on, slightly downhill. Wherever the Robin alighted a little shower of snow would fall off the branch. Presently the clouds parted overhead and the winter sun came out and the snow all around them grew dazzlingly bright.

They had been traveling in this way for about half an hour, with the two girls in front, when Edmund said to Peter, "if you're not still too high and mighty to talk to me, I've something to say which you'd better listen to."

"What is it?" asked Peter.

"Hush! Not so loud," said Edmund; "there's no good frightening the girls. But have you realized what we're doing?"

"What?" said Peter, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"We're following a guide we know nothing about. How do we know which side that bird is on? Why shouldn't it be leading us into a trap?"

"That's a nasty idea. Still— a robin, you know. They're good birds in all the stories I've ever read. I'm sure a robin wouldn't be on the wrong side."

"It if comes to that, which is the right side? How do we know that the Fauns are in the right and the Queen is in the wrong? We don't really know anything about either."

"The Faun saved Lucy."

"He said he did. But how do we know? And there's another thing too. Has anyone the least idea of the way home from here?"

"Great Scott!" said Peter, "I hadn't thought of that."

"And no chance of dinner either," said Edmund.

While the two boys were whispering behind, both the girls suddenly cried "Oh!" and stopped.

"The robin!" cried Lucy, "the robin. It's flown away." And so it had— right out of sight.

"And now what are we to do?" said Edmund, giving Peter a look which was as much as to say "What did I tell you?"

"Sh! Look!" said Susan.

"What?" said Peter.

"There's something moving among the trees over there to the left."

They all stared as hard as they could, and no one felt very comfortable.

"There it goes again," said Susan presently.

"I saw it that time too," said Peter. "It's still there. It's just gone behind that big tree."

"What is it?" asked Lucy, trying very hard not to sound nervous.

"Whatever it is," said Peter, "it's dodging us. It's something that doesn't want to be seen."

"Let's go home," said Susan. And then, though nobody said it out loud, everyone suddenly realized the same fact that Edmund had previously whispered to Peter.

They were lost.

"What's it like?" said Lucy.

"It's— it's a kind of animal," said Susan; and then, "Look! Look! Quick! There it is."

They all saw it this time, a whiskered furry face which had looked out at them from behind a tree. But this time it didn't immediately draw back. Instead, the animal put its paw against its mouth just as humans put their finger on their lips when they are signaling to you to be quiet. Then it disappeared again.

The children, all stood holding their breath.

A moment later the stranger came out from behind the tree, glanced all round as if it were afraid someone was watching, said "Hush", made signs to them to join it in the thicker bit of wood where it was standing, and then once more disappeared.

"I know what it is," said Peter; "it's a beaver. I saw the tail."

"It wants us to go to it," said Susan, "and it is warning us not to make a noise."

"I know," said Peter. "The question is, are we to go to it or not? What do you think, Lu?"

"I think it's a nice beaver," said Lucy. "I think it wants us to follow it."

Edmund gave her an incredulous look. "Of course," he replied sarcastically.

"Shan't we have to risk it?" said Susan. "I mean, it's no good just standing here and I feel I want some dinner."

At this moment the Beaver again popped its head out from behind the tree and beckoned earnestly to them.

Peter looked back at his younger siblings with a warning glance before turning back to the beaver. He took a slow step toward the creature, holding out his hand as if to a dog, and started making a clucking noise. To their surprise, the beaver stood and put his hands on his hips, a clearly offended look on his face.

"I'm not going to smell it, if that's what you want."

Peter's face went red as he stared at the beaver in surprise. "Oh. Sorry."

And then the Beaver beckoned them once more with his head.

"Come on," said Peter, "let's give it a try. All keep close together. We ought to be a match for one beaver if it turns out to be an enemy."

So the children all got close together and walked up to the tree and in behind it, and there, sure enough, they found the Beaver; but it still drew back, saying to them in a hoarse throaty whisper, "Further in, come further in. Right in here. We're not safe in the open!"

Only when it had led them into a dark spot where four trees grew so close together that their boughs met and the brown earth and pine needles could be seen underfoot because no snow had been able to fall there, did it begin to talk to them.

"Are you the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve?" it said.

"We're some of them," said Peter.

"Ssh!" said the Beaver, "not so loud, please. We're not safe even here."

"Why, who are you afraid of?" said Peter. "There's no one here but ourselves."

"There are the trees," said the Beaver. "They're always listening. Most of them are on our side, but there are trees that would betray us to her; you know who I mean," and it nodded its head several times.

"If it comes to talking about sides," said Edmund, "how do we know you're a friend?"

"Not meaning to be rude, Mister Beaver," added Peter, "but you see, we're strangers."

"Quite right, quite right," said the Beaver. "Here is my token." With these words, it held up to them a little white object.

They all looked at it in surprise, till suddenly Lucy said, "Oh, of course. It's my handkerchief— the one I gave to poor Mister—"

"Tumnus. I know. Poor fellow got wind of the arrest just before it happened. I've been keeping an eye out for you ever since."

"Is he alright?" Lucy asked in a small voice.

"Ssh!" The Beaver peered gravely at the branches around them. "Not here. I must bring you where we can have a real talk and also dinner."

No one except Edmund felt any difficulty about trusting the beaver now, and everyone, including Edmund, was very glad to hear the word "dinner". They, therefore, all hurried along behind their new friend who led them at a surprisingly quick pace, and always in the thickest parts of the forest, for over an hour.

* * *

Past the frozen river and further into the woods was the young Narnian Princess, Ella, riding on her black, single-horned stallion, the white one galloping freely beside them. Ever since the treaty she'd established between the pair a few _weeks_ back, they'd become rather good companions, spending most of their time together, and they both seemed rather fond of Ella as they practically followed her everywhere.

That chilly evening was one like the many previous ones; she left camp as goal to scout and see if she found any other Narnians in need of help. Since the three of them had well recuperated, she went on these little hiking trips, sometimes riding Silver-Moon (the white unicorn), and sometimes riding Midnight (the black one). Either it was one or the other, the other always tagged along.

"Midnight!" She pulled on the stallion's reins and called out to the other. "Silver! Slow down, both of you! I heard something."

Silver-Moon cantered back toward them and stopped just as Midnight came to a stop as well. Sliding off his back, Ella glanced around warily, her gaze never wavering as she brought out her bow and an arrow.

"Hello and greetings to you, yo— ahh!"

Something dropped behind her then, within less than three seconds, Ella spun around and had an arrow pointing down at a rather comical-looking fox. It was clearly much larger than that of an Earth fox, its body elongated, with relatively short limbs. Its tail, which was longer than half the body length, was long, fluffy, and reached the ground when in a standing position. The Fox's fur coats were a bright, reddish-rusty color, with yellowish tints. It was beautiful, but Ella paid little mind to its beauty as she was only focused on how he could be on the Witch's side.

"Not another move!" she commanded. She had an authoritative voice, he noted as he stumbled onto his feet. He then took a step forward, but she only tightened her grip on her weapon, eyes void of emotion as they looked down at the furry creature. "Alright, then, not another _step_," she all but growled, taking him by surprise.

"I am not here to harm you," he assured her.

"How do I know that I can trust you and that others do not wait behind you, ready for the moment I yield?"

The Fox sighed. _I have just made a fool of myself in front of the future High Queen of Narnia_, he thought in embarrassment, looking down at the snowy ground. "I will be honest with you, Your Majesty: many who happen to share a rather unfortunate family resemblance to my kind serve the self-proclaimed Queen of Narnia, but I side with the true King, Aslan."

When he said the word Aslan, he saw a flash cross the girl's eyes.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself," he continued. "My name is Hunta, Captain of Aslan's army."

She relaxed when he said his name and put her bow and arrow away. "What are you doing out here?"

"The Great King asked me to check up on you when he saw you wander off."

"What else?"

The Fox chuckled slightly at her clever eye. "Word has gone out that the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve meant to rule at your side have finally arrived."

Ella's brows shot upward in surprise. No one had told her so yet... perhaps it was because she had left the camp too soon before anyone got the chance. But the Dryads could've told her... or were they keeping silence just in case the word took the wrong turn and ended alerting the Witch?

"My grandfather... he sent you to seek them, hasn't he?"

"He has sent me to see if the word is true, and to gather more troops, Your Majesty."

Ella looked at him for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright, then I won't keep you any longer. It was a pleasure to meet you, Hunta."

The Fox gave her a smile before he bowed. "The pleasure's all mine, Princess." The Fox turned, ready to leave. However, the young princess called him back. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

She was silent for a moment before she replied in a soft tone. "Please... just make sure they're safe."

Hunta nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty. Though, before I go... Might I add?" He hesitated, only continuing when she gave him an approving nod. "I suggest you return to the camp; I fear the Witch will be sending out her wolves soon if the word gets to her."

Ella gave him a fond smile as she nodded. "Of course," she said, mounting her black stallion. "Take care of yourself, Hunta."

"And you of yourself, My Lady."

* * *

The Pevensies were feeling very tired as they walked for what seemed like miles on end, and were getting very hungry when suddenly the trees began to get thinner in front of them and the ground to fall steeply downhill. A minute later they came out under the open sky and found themselves looking down on a fine sight.

At the end of the line, Edmund slowed down and tugged on Peter's coat. "Will you stop a second? Have you thought about what we're doing? How do we know what side this beaver's on?" he told him as Peter listened impatiently.

"He's friends with the Faun."

Edmund rolled his eyes at his older sibling. "If it comes to that, how do we even know the Faun is in the right?"

Peter sighed in exasperation. "We've talked about this Edmund— he saved Lucy."

"That's what he said, and he was arrested," Edmund reminded him.

Before either could add anything else, the Beaver said, "Here we are then!"

They were standing on the edge of a steep, narrow valley at the bottom of which ran— at least it would have been running if it hadn't been frozen— a fairly large river. Just below them, a dam had been built across this river, and when they saw it everyone suddenly remembered that of course beavers are always making dams and felt quite sure that Mister Beaver had made this one. They also noticed that he now had a sort of modest expression on his, face— the sort of look people have when you are visiting a garden they've made or reading a story they've written.

So it was only common politeness when Susan said, "What a lovely dam!"

And Mister Beaver didn't say "Hush" this time but "Merely a trifle! Merely a trifle! And it isn't really finished!"

Above the dam, there was what ought to have been a deep pool but was now, of course, a level floor of dark green ice. And below the dam, much lower down, was more ice, but instead of being smooth this was all frozen into the foamy and wavy shapes in which the water had been rushing along at the very moment when the frost came. And where the water had been trickling over and spurting through the dam there was now a glittering wall of icicles, as if the side of the dam had been covered all over with flowers and wreaths and festoons of the purest sugar. And out in the middle, and partly on top of the dam was a funny little house shaped rather like an enormous beehive and from a hole in the roof smoke was going up, so that when you saw it (especially if you were hungry) you at once thought of cooking and became hungrier than you were before.

That was what the others chiefly noticed, but Edmund noticed something else. A little lower down the river there was another small river which came down another small valley to join it. And looking up that valley, Edmund could see two small hills, and he was almost sure they were the two hills which the White Witch had pointed out to him when he parted from her at the lamp-post that other day. And then between them, he thought, must be her palace, only a mile off or less. And he thought about Turkish Delight and about being a King and horrible ideas came into his head.

"Here we are," repeated Mister Beaver, a smile on his face, "and it looks as if Missus Beaver is expecting us. I'll lead the way. But be careful and don't slip."

The first thing Lucy noticed as she went in was a burring sound, and the first thing she saw was a kind-looking old she-beaver sitting in the corner with a thread in her mouth working busily at her sewing machine, and it was from it that the sound came. She stopped her work and got up as soon as the children came in.

"So you've come at last!" she said, holding out both her wrinkled old paws. "At last! To think that ever I should live to see this day! The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle's singing and I daresay, Mister Beaver, you'll get us some fish."

"That I will," said Mister Beaver, and he went out of the house, and across the ice of the deep pool to where he had a little hole in the ice which he kept open every day with his hatchet.

When dinner was ready and served, and each person had got his (or her) cup of tea, each person shoved back his (or her) stool so as to be able to lean against the wall and gave a long sigh of contentment.

"And now," said Mister Beaver, pushing away his empty beer mug and pulling his cup of tea towards him, "if you'll just wait till I've got my pipe lit up and going nicely— why, now we can get to business. It's snowing again," he added, cocking his eye at the window. "That's all the better because it means we shan't have any visitors; and if anyone should have been trying to follow you, he won't find any tracks."

"Can please tell us what's happened to Mister Tumnus?" Lucy asked.

"Ah, that's bad," said Mister Beaver, shaking his head. "That's a very, very bad business. There's no doubt he was taken off by the police. I got that from a bird who saw it done."

"But where's he been taken to?" asked Lucy.

"Well, they were heading northwards when they were last seen and we all know what that means."

"No, we don't," said Susan.

Mister Beaver shook his head in a very gloomy fashion. "I'm afraid it means they were taking him to her House," he said.

"But what'll they do to him, Mister Beaver?" gasped Lucy.

"Well," said Mister Beaver, "you can't exactly say for sure. But there's not many taken in there that ever comes out again. Statues. All full of statues they say it is— in the courtyard and up the stairs and in the hall. People she's turned—" He paused and shuddered. "turned into stone."

"But, Mister Beaver," said Lucy, "can't we— I mean we must do something to save him. It's too dreadful and it's all on my account."

"I don't doubt you'd save him if you could, dearie," said Missus Beaver, "but you've no chance of getting into that House against her will and ever coming out alive."

"Couldn't we have some stratagem?" said Peter. "I mean couldn't we dress up as something, or pretend to be— oh, pedlars or anything— or watch till she was gone out— or— oh, hang it all, there must be some way. This Faun saved my sister at his own risk, Mister Beaver. We can't just leave him to be— to be— to have that done to him."

"It's no good, Son of Adam," said Mister Beaver, "no good you trying, of all people. But now that Aslan is on the move—"

"Oh, yes! Tell us about Aslan!" said several voices at once; for once again that strange feeling— like the first signs of spring, like good news, had come over them.

"Who is Aslan?" Edmund asked in a rather rude tone, earning himself some glares from his siblings.

Mister Beaver began to laugh, thinking he was only bluffing, only quieting down when he saw no sign of jester in either look of the children's faces. He gaped at them. "You don't know?"

Missus Beaver was just as surprised. "Oh, my, you do come from a bad place."

"He's only the King of the whole wood, Lord of all Narnia!" said Mister Beaver.

"He's been away a long time, but now he's back—"

"They're both back!" Mister Beaver nodded. "Aye, and they're gathering an army at the Stone Table! Now we'll sort out the White Witch once and for all."

Edmund frowned. "Won't she just turn him to stone?"

Beaver threw his head back, laughing, while Edmund's face flushed. "Lord love you, Son of Adam, what a simple thing to say!" answered Mister Beaver with a great laugh. "Turn him into stone? If she can stand on her two feet and look him in the face it'll be the most she can do and more than I expect of her. No, no. He'll put all to rights as it says in an old rhyme in these parts:

_Wrong will be right when Aslan and his scion come in sight,_  
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,  
When his scion bares thou teeth, winter meets its death,  
And when the great lion shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."

He downed his hot drink, then put his mug down with a thump. "But you'll see for yourselves soon enough; we'll set out in the morning."

Peter's brows furrowed in confusion. "For where?"

"The Stone Table. If we're to save Tumnus, we'll need Aslan and the princess to do it."

"Princess?" Susan suddenly asked.

Lucy's eyes lit up instantly in hope. "She's here?! Ella's here?"

Her siblings looked at her with wide eyes, surprised and confused at her sudden outburst.

Peter was the first to recover, however, as the name she said played over in his head. "Ella? As in Eleanor Kirke?"

Lucy nodded. "But she's not a Kirke. Not really; she's Princess Ella! Of Narnia! ... here!"

Missus Beaver suddenly had an overly fond look on her face as she looked at the young girl with wide eyes, leaning forward in anticipation. "You've met the young princess?"

Lucy nodded proudly, a smile illuminating her face at the thought of her friend.

"If it's the same Ella we're talking about..." Peter started slowly.

"We live with her," Susan finished. "Though it's only for the... summer..." she trailed off, cringing slightly as she glanced at the snow outside.

"Do you know any other Ella?" Mister Beaver asked the uncertain-looking Peter. The boy shook his head. "Then it's her all right." He sighed, eyes wide. "She's back. She's survived..."

This time, it was Edmund who spoke. "Survived what?"

"The Witch has been after her since she was very young. Aslan had the princess sent back to the land of Adam and Eve, for her protection, until she became old enough to _come back_."

"Old enough to fight a war, you mean," Susan suddenly snapped, an incredulous look on her face.

Mister Beaver quickly shook his head. "Not what I said, Your Majesty," he said quickly.

"But that's _exactly_ what you said! You just said Aslan was getting ready to fight a war," Susan countered.

Beaver sighed in defeat and leaned forward, his face lighting up by the candlelight. "He will need every hand he can get."

"Including the hand of a sixteen-year-old girl?!" Susan exclaimed, shooting Peter an alarmed glance.

Peter frowned, his nose flaring slightly. "Look, I know you mean well, but this all sounds rather dangerous," he said as he stood. "I'm sorry, thank you for dinner."

The Beavers simply stared, stunned.

Lucy pouted slightly, her lower lip jutting out a bit and trembling. "But what about Mister Tumnus?"

"Lucy, it's time the four of us were getting home. Susan?" The oldest female Pevensie instantly stood, nodding enthusiastically. "Ed?"

"But what about Ella?" Lucy tried, but her brother paid her no mind this time.

"Ed? It's time to go— Ed!" Peter searched the room, his eyes finally landing on Edmund's empty chair. "I'm going to kill him," he growled.


	11. It feels good to be reunited

**It feels good to be reunited...**

Snowy footprints led from the mound and across the river. Peter, Susan, Lucy, and Beaver stared at the tracks.

"Edmund!" Peter called out.

"EDMUND!" Lucy shouted.

"When did he leave?" Mister Beaver asked.

"What?" Susan looked down at him, then shook her head. "I'm not sure..."

"It's vital that we try and remember what he heard."

Peter looked down at him skeptically. "Why?"

Beaver pointed up toward the two dark hills. "Because he's gone to her."

Peter then found himself reaching through the trees, Mister Beaver right behind him, and Susan and Lucy a bit further behind, straining to catch up.

"There's no point in this!" Mister Beaver exclaimed. "You won't get him back this way! You've lost him to the Witch."

"No, I haven't!" Peter shouted.

"You tell me you trust him, then."

Peter whipped around. "I can still catch him."

He turned back to his way and tore across the snow, stopping at the rocks where his brother's footprints ended. Susan and Lucy looked up the hillside to where Edmund climbed, tiny against the cliff.

"Edmund!" Lucy shouted.

"Shhh!" Mister Beaver hissed slightly. "They'll hear you."

Up ahead, Peter threw himself up the rocks, only to be tackled by the Narnian.

"But, he's our brother!" Susan exclaimed when she saw the beaver stopping Peter.

"He's the bait! The Witch wants all four of you."

"What about Ella?"

"From the looks of it, the Witch does not know the princess is here yet. Though if she did know, she would no doubt want the five of you."

"Why?" Susan practically cried out.

"To kill you."

Peter and Susan stared at Mister Beaver, shocked. Then—

"Look!" Lucy helplessly pointed ahead as Edmund hauled himself to the top. In front of him, an open gate yawned, and Edmund walked through, vanishing.

"Blast him," Peter muttered.

Then Susan turned on Peter angrily. "I told you we should've gone back! But you wouldn't listen!"

"Oh, you knew this would happen?"

"I didn't know what would happen! Which is why we should've left while we still could."

"Stop it! Both of you!" Peter and Susan glared, wind whipping their faces. "This isn't helping Edmund!" Lucy continued.

"The only thing to do now is get as far away from this place as possible," said Mister Beaver.

Peter whipped around and gave him a look of disbelief. "And just leave him?"

"Only Aslan and the princess can help Edmund now."

"Then take us to them," Lucy pleaded. Lucy stared up at the dark cliff, then turned to them, tearful. "What choice do we have?"

Mister Beaver led the children through the woods, then, suddenly, dozens of howls ripped through the air, causing his eyes to go wide. They ran. The wolves flashed through the trees, not so far behind, slicing over new-fallen snow.

"Come on, Mother, there's no time!" Mister Beaver exclaimed as he, Peter, Susan and Lucy waiting impatiently, while Missus Beaver packed as much as she could from the kitchen.

After a moment, Missus Beaver reached up and brought down a jar, holding it up, looking thoughtful. "Do you think we'll need jam?" she asked as Mister Beaver tried to drag her toward the door.

"Only if the Witch serves toast in prison," he retorted.

Missus Beaver squeezed her basket closed. "Oh, shush. You'll be thanking me later."

Susan gave the couple a disbelieving look. "Jam, toast— what are you doing, Missus Beaver?!" exclaimed the girl.

"Packing a load for each of us, dearie," said Missus Beaver very coolly. "You didn't think we'd set out on a journey with nothing to eat, did you?"

"But we haven't time!" said Susan, buttoning the collar of her coat. "She may be here any minute."

"That's what I say," chimed in Mister Beaver.

"Get along with you all," said his wife. "Think it over, Mister Beaver. She can't be here for quarter of an hour at least."

"But don't we want as big a start as we can possibly get," said Peter, "if we're to reach the Stone Table before her?"

"You've got to remember that, Missus Beaver," said Susan. "As soon as she has looked in here and finds we're gone she'll be off at top speed."

"That she will," said Missus Beaver. "But we can't get there before her whatever we do, for she'll be on a sled and we'll be walking."

"Then— have we no hope?" said Susan.

"Now don't you get fussing, there's a dear," said Missus Beaver, "but just get half a dozen clean handkerchiefs out of the drawer. 'Course we've got a hope. We can't get there before her, but we can keep under cover and go by ways she won't expect, and perhaps we'll get through."

"That's true enough, Missus Beaver," said her husband. "But it's time we were out of this."

"And don't you start fussing either, Mister Beaver," said his wife. "There. That's better. There's five loads and the smallest for the smallest of us: that's you, my dear," she added, looking at Lucy.

"Oh, do please come on," said Lucy.

"Well, I'm nearly ready now," answered Missus Beaver at last. "I suppose the sewing machine's too heavy to bring?"

"Yes. It is," said Mister Beaver. "A great deal too heavy. And you don't think you'll be able to use it while we're on the run, I suppose?"

"I can't abide the thought of that Witch fiddling with it," said Missus Beaver, "and breaking it or stealing it, as likely as not."

"Oh, please, please, please, do hurry!" said the three children.

The snow had stopped, and the moon had come out when they began their journey. They went in single file— first Mister Beaver, then Lucy, then Peter, then Susan, and Missus Beaver last of all. Mister Beaver led them across the dam and on to the right bank of the river and then along a very rough sort of path among the trees right down by the river-bank. The sides of the valley, shining in the moonlight, towered up far above them on either hand.

"Best keep down here as much as possible," he said. "She'll have to keep to the top, for you couldn't bring a sled down here."

Suddenly, the baying of wolves pierced the night air. The group froze, trapped. Outside in the cold winter, the wolves raged across the river, leaping onto the dam, surrounding the Beavers' home.

"Take them!" Maugrim, the 'leader,' ordered.

And the pack savagely tore at the mound.

Inside the Beavers' home, splinters began to fly as the wolves burst through the door. They ransacked the room, shredding everything. Finally, Maugrim stopped. He sniffed, his head swiveling to a rough-hewn wardrobe.

The wolf eased open the wardrobe door, revealing...

A tunnel.

Maugrim's yellow eyes narrowed. "Smell them out."

Further ahead, Mister Beaver led the group through a dark tunnel. Peter and Susan had to crouch to avoid low-hanging beams.

"We'll be safe up ahead," said Mister Beaver. "A Badger friend of mine dug this tunnel. It comes up right near his place."

"And his barrel of ale, I shouldn't wonder," Missus Beaver muttered, making her husband roll his eyes.

At one point, Lucy's long coat caught on a root, causing her to fall to the ground. Susan reached down to help her, but...

"Sssh," said Lucy. Everyone froze, and Lucy's eyes widened in fear. "They're in the tunnel."

Indeed, the wolves poured into the tunnel, their howls echoing off the walls. The group quickly barreled around a corner but came upon a dead end.

"I told you we should've brought the map," Missus Beaver snapped.

"There wasn't room next to the jam!" Mister Beaver defended himself; after all, she was the one who chose to bring the sweet bread-spreading in the first place. "Peter, kneel down!"

Beaver then leaped onto the boy's back, reaching for the ceiling. Above, on the outside, a rock rolled away, revealing Mister Beaver himself. The other climbed out quickly after him, and out into a tiny village that sat in the pale moonlight. A mother Otter drew water from the well, squirrel children playing nearby. Beaver led the others in a run for the town. Lucy peered at the squirrels standing still under a tree, and Missus Beaver followed her gaze.

"Something's wrong," said the latter.

Something must've been wrong indeed as the village stood disconcertingly silent. Everyone took a moment, glancing around, before letting out a chorus of gasps as they gaped around, horrified as they realized the entire town had been turned to stone.

A Badger stood frozen, baring his fierce claws. Mister Beaver approached him slowly and stood, laying a hand on his old friend, tears welling.

"Now do you see what we're up against?"

The three Pevensies left stared, devastated.

* * *

Past the two hills, in the frozen castle, Edmund sat alone in a cell, ashamed and disappointed; nothing had gone as he had hoped— expected. The Witch was perfectly worthy of the nasty titles the Narnians gave her as she was, indeed, a witch. Awfully deceiving at first glance... well, to him anyway. He hated himself for having let his arrogance blind him.

He hugged his arms around himself, shuddering; there were, surprisingly, bugs everywhere, scurrying about. He tried to eat a piece of bread but gagged. He took a gulp of water but immediately spat it out. He looked into the cup and gagged as he saw more bugs floating in the slowly freezing water. He placed the cup down and pushed away his meal, disgusted.

"Excuse me."

Edmund jumped up, startled. He looked into the next cell and approached it warily, and saw, there, laying on the floor a gaunt, beaten Faun, his hooves shackled to the floor. "What do you want?"

"Sorry," said the Faun in a small, tired voice. "I'd get up, but I'm afraid my legs aren't working very well."

Realization came crashing down onto the boy as he stared at the Narnian with wide eyes. "Mister Tumnus...?"

Mister Tumnus chuckled sadly. "What's left of him, at least." Edmund looked away as Mister Tumnus smiled awkwardly."You're Lucy Pevensie's brother."

The boy was silent for a moment before he nodded. "I'm Edmund."

Mister Tumnus smiled slightly. "You have the same nose." And Edmund unwittingly scratched his nose. "Is your sister safe? Is she all right?"

Edmund looked away, troubled. "I don't know."

He felt even more ashamed now for how he had down-put his siblings, and though part of him still held an unreasonable grudge against them, he wished he was with them rather than in that freezing cell.

* * *

The rest of the Pevensies and Beavers stared out, in awe as they passed the Rock Bridge, being led by Hunta, the Fox who had had the pleasure in doing so; before them spread Narnia— vast, open and white.

The Fox stood proudly. "I told you it wasn't all trees."

"It's enormous," said Lucy, eyes sparkling with wonder.

"It's the world, my dear," said Missus Beaver. "Did you expect it to be small?"

Peter peered out across the immense expanse. "Where's the Stone Table?" he asked.

"You see that frozen lake?" The Fox nodded ahead of them. "Beyond that is Shuddering Wood, and then some foothills. You see the largest of them far off there?"

A tiny dark mound wavered on the horizon.

"Barely," said Peter.

"Well, the little gray bit on top of that— that's the Stone table."

Susan frowned. "I thought you said you knew a shortcut."

The Fox shrugged. "You'll save two days if you cross the Frozen River."

Susan peered at a long green strip in the distance. "Frozen? Is it safe?"

"Hard as a rock for a hundred years," Hunta reassured her. "Quite lovely, actually. Almost wish I was crossing it with you."

Susan looked down at him in surprise. "You're not coming."

"I might've known," Mister Beaver growled.

"Friend." The Fox sighed. "Aslan's readying an army. He'll need soldiers and I can get them." He turned toward the children. "The princess asked me to apprise you and lead you as close as I could, and I have done as best as I could, but I must now return to my primary duty." He then bowed. "It's been a distinct honor and privilege, your Majesties."

He turned to go, but Missus Beaver quickly nudged her husband, causing the latter to sigh.

"Oh... ah... Fox...?" The Fox turned. "Good luck."

They exchanged a smile before Hunta turned and raced off. The five of them then made their way off the Rock Bridge and over to the white landscape. The Beavers galloped easily over the snowy plain. The Pevensies, however, lagged behind, their legs bogging down in the snow.

"If he tells us to hurry one more time, I'm going to turn him into a big fluffy hat," Peter muttered.

At the shore, Beaver clambered atop a mound. "Hurry, Humans! While you're still young!"

Peter seethed.

Something then caught Beaver's eye. In the far distance, a rooster tail of snow plumed in the air. Beaver's eyes went wide as saucers.

He cupped his paws and shouted. "Hurry up! Run! Run!"

Out in the snow, the children sighed.

"He is getting a bit bossy," said Lucy.

Missus Beaver jumped up and down. "Behind you! It's her!"

The children turned and saw a speeding sleigh bearing down on them. Peter grabbed Lucy and ran for the shore as the air shook with the sound of sleigh bells. Susan slipped on the ice, scrambling. Atop the sleigh, a tall figure stood at the reigns.

Beaver pointed to a small hole between two icy slabs. "Inside! Dive! Dive!"

The children threw themselves into the hole, Beaver jamming himself in right after. He stuck for a moment, then slipped inside, tail flapping behind. The Beavers and humans laid crammed in the tiny hole, trembling as the sleigh bells grew louder. Finally, with a hiss of runners, the sleigh stopped right outside. A shadow passed over the mouth of the hole. Lucy swallowed hard. They waited.

Finally, the youngest Pevensie spoke, "Perhaps she's gone."

Both girls looked at Peter. "I guess I'll look," he said, readying himself to stand, but Mister Beaver held him back.

"No. You're worth nothing to Narnia dead."

He squared his shoulders, readying himself to leave, but Missus Beaver quickly reached out to him. "Neither are you, Beaver."

He squeezed her hand, then slipped into the light. Everyone waited. Susan held Missus Beaver, frightened. Suddenly, the sound of laughter filled the air.

"Come up! Come out!" Beaver popped his face back into the hole. "There's someone here to see you."

Lucy was first to peek out of the hole and found herself staring at two huge reindeer resting in front of an ancient sleigh. And there, next to Beaver stood a tall man in a cherry red robe and a great white beard. A broadsword on his hip, he could be an ancient warrior, or...

Lucy grinned. "Merry Christmas, sir."

Father Christmas beamed, gladly shaking her hand. "Merry Christmas, Lucy."

Peter gaped, astonished.

"After all these years," said Missus Beaver.

"I've put up with a lot since I got here, but this—"

Peter stepped in front of her. "We heard there was no Christmas in Narnia."

"The Witch has kept me out for a long time. But her magic is weakening. The ice is losing its grip on the world— thanks to you all."

"What?" said Susan.

"You've given Narnia back its hope." He reached into his sleigh and pulled out a sack. "You've still a difficult road ahead, however. I hope these will be of some help along your way."

And Lucy felt running through her that deep shiver of gladness which you only get if you are being solemn and still.

"And now," said Father Christmas, "for your presents. There is a new and better sewing machine for you, Missus Beaver. I will drop it at your house as I pass."

"If you please, sir," said Missus Beaver, making a curtsy. "It's locked up."

"Locks and bolts make no difference to me," said Father Christmas. "And as for you, Mister Beaver, when you get home you will find your dam finished and mended, and all the leaks stopped, and a new sluice gate fitted."

Mister Beaver was so pleased that he opened his mouth very wide and then found he couldn't say anything at all.

"Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.

"Here, sir," said Peter.

"These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well."

With these words, he handed Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold, and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.

"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss."

Last of all, he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow in the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends are hurt, a few drops of this restore them. And the dagger is to defend yourself at great need. For you also are not to be in battle."

"Why, sir?" said Lucy. "I think— I don't know, but I think I could be brave enough."

"That is not the point," he said. "But battles are ugly when women fight. And now—" Here he suddenly looked less grave. "— here is something for the moment for you all!"

And he brought out a large tray containing five cups and saucers, a bowl of lump sugar, a jug of cream, and a great big teapot all sizzling and piping hot. Then he cried out, "Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!" and cracked his whip. Everyone watched him go.

Finally, Lucy turned to Susan. "I told you he was real."

Susan opened her mouth to speak, then just shut it.

* * *

_"Are you mad?"_

_"No, Ella, I'm not mad. You said you had a bad dream; what was so bad about it?"_

_"I'm tired," said Ella in a small voice. "I don't wanna talk anymore."_

_Caroline, her mother, sighed. "Okay, that's fine. Goodnight, Sweetheart."_

_Ella squeezed her eyes shut, and Caroline continued to stroke her hair. "Can you sing me a lullaby?" the little girl whispered, eyes still shut._

_Caroline smiled and thought for a moment. "Alright, I used to sing this one to your brothers, it always put them to sleep," Caroline said, clearing her throat before she started to sing, softly._

_"**Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green; when you are king, dilly, dilly, I shall be queen.**"_

_Ella opened her eyes and started to giggle._

_"What?" Caroline asked, smiling._

_"I can't be King; I'm a girl!"_

_"Alright, fine, forget that line. Let me start over."_

_Ella smiled and closed her eyes again. Caroline snuggled in a little closer and began to sing again._

_"**Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, Lavender's blue; if you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you. Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, and the lambs play; we shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm's way...**"_

Her eyes snapped open, and she pushed herself forward, away from the tree trunk she was leaning her back against. How much longer did she have to wait before the Pevensies arrived at the Table? She sighed, also wondering what had become of Hunta. Had he made it to the Pevensies? Had he managed to avoid the Witch's wolves, or the Witch herself?

"You worry too much."

She looked back and found Gwaindir standing a few feet away, sword and shield out, his stallion cantering behind him.

"You train too much," she countered, pushing herself onto her feet.

"Well, I do plan on defeating you in battle someday."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You're never going to give up, are you?"

"_Lá_," **(No)** he replied, shaking his head as he sheathed his sword latched his shield to his back. "You think they're on their way?"

Ella pursed her lips as she turned to rest her gaze beyond the trees and towards the frozen river. "They're close," she said quietly. "I can feel it. It's just... the Witch is weakening. That means no more snow, and no more ice. And if they come through where I think they came through... the only way to get here is past the river, and since winter is ending—"

"The river is melting," Gwaindir finished, realization finally falling upon him.

"I can't help but worry. What if she catches them?"

Gwaindir placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Have faith, _Hiril vuin_..." **(My Lady...)** he said softly. "I'm sure they will be fine."

She sighed, running a hand over her face. "I hope you're right."

"Hey, if it'll make you feel better— do you want to go toward the river to see..."

She looked back at him and nodded. Philip, whom she had taken to accompany her this time, cantered over and stood before her, waiting for her to get on his back, while Gwaindir mounted his own stallion.

* * *

"We need to cross now!" said Peter as he, his sisters and the Beavers stood by the bank of the river.

Winter was ending, and so was its components that projected the season; the snow was melting, and the century-old thick ice was breaking.

The Pevensies followed the Beavers through a sparse forest. Around them, water dripped from thawing icicles.

"I wonder if the Professor had any galoshes in his wardrobe," said Lucy.

At that moment, Susan's foot sank in a puddle. She quickly yanked it out, all soggy, and groaned. "I'd be happy to go back and get them."

Suddenly, the Beavers stopped, absolutely still.

"Quiet," Mister Beaver hushed.

The children listened. Then, they all heard it— running water. The group advanced quickly then stopped and stood on a precipice, staring down at the great river. Cracks ran along its frozen surface, dark green water shooting from underneath. To their left, a massive frozen waterfall loomed, huge chunks of ice cracking off. To their right, the river flowed, plates of ice breaking away and shooting downstream.

"Our shortcut is melting!" Susan all but whined in disappointment and disbelief.

Lucy stared down at the rocky slope to the jagged ice. "What do we do?"

Peter's eyes flickered from shore to shore, calculating. "We cross."

"We'll never make it," Susan interjected.

The older Pevensie adjusted his shield and sword, looking steely. "Not if we keep talking about it." And he scrambled down the hill. After a beat, the others followed, the Beavers sharing a worried look before following suite.

* * *

Nearing the other side of the river, Ella scouted around, like a predator looking for its prey, something Gwaindir did not miss a beat to point out.

She grumbled, glaring at him. "Shut up, Felvanthar."

He grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just making a harmless point, Your Majesty."

She sighed. She knew he meant well, only wanting to lighten the mood enough to make her smile, but right now wasn't the time.

"Gwaindir, I know what you're trying to do, but right now isn't the time. They could be in real danger at this very moment, what with the ice breaking—"

Gwaindir sighed this time, running a hand over his short hair. "I know, Princess."

His ears perked, almost like thus of a horse when their attention is caught, and his head snapped toward the left.

"This way, Your Majesty."

* * *

"Don't beavers make dams?" Lucy asked.

"I'm not that fast, dear!" Mister Beaver exclaimed himself.

"Wait, just think about this for a minute," said Susan.

"We don't have a minute!" Peter all but shouted at her.

"I'm just trying to be realistic."

"No, you're trying to be smart... as usual!" said Peter as they began to climb down to the ice. He stepped onto the ice first, though quickly pulled his foot back when he noticed it break under his weight.

"Wait, maybe I should go first," offered Mister Beaver.

Peter looked at him for barely a second before nodding in agreement. "Maybe you should."

Mister Beaver carefully stepped onto the ice and started patting his tale a few times.

"You've been sneaking second helpings haven't you?" Missus Beaver said accusingly.

"Well, you never know what meal is gonna be your last, especially with your cooking."

And the children started to cross, very slowly.

Susan huffed, cheeks flushing red from the cold. "If Mum knew what we were doing..."

"Mum's not here!" Peter snapped.

Lucy let out an exhausted breath as she looked up from her feet, then gasped when she saw the wolves. "Oh, no!"

Eyes widening at the threatening sight, Peter shouted, "Run!"

But before either of them could turn, the wolves leaped onto the ice, in front of them. One of them held Mister Beaver down as Maugrim started walking towards Peter, who had fumbled, and awkwardly drawn his sword.

"Put that down, boy. Someone could get hurt."

"Don't worry about me!" Mister Beaver exclaimed himself. "Run him through!"

Maugrim rolled his eyes at him and continued to advance toward the boy. "Leave now while you can, and your brother leaves with you."

Biting her lip hesitantly, Susan finally spoke. "Stop Peter; maybe we should listen to him!"

Maugrim smirked. "Smart girl."

"Don't listen to him!" Mister Beaver protested. "Kill him! Kill him now!"

"Come on, this isn't your war," Maugrim said. "All my queen wants is for you to take your family and go."

Susan let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, just because some man in a red suit hands you a sword, it doesn't make you a hero! So just drop it!"

"No, Peter! Narnia needs ya! Gut him while you still have a chance!" Mister Beaver exclaimed himself.

"What's it gonna be Son of Adam?" the wolf taunted. "I won't wait forever. And neither will the river!"

Swallowing hard, Lucy glanced up at the frozen waterfall and gasped. "Peter!"

They all looked up and see the waterfall beginning to melt.

"Hold onto me!"

Without wasting another second, Lucy, Susan, and the Beavers latched onto Peter as he stuck his sword into the ice. They looked up as a wall of ice came crashing down, causing a huge wave to engulf them. The girls screamed. The wolves were thrown into the River. There was a moment of silence, then, suddenly, the Pevensies appeared, clinging to the block of ice as it raced down the river.

When they reached the shore, Peter looked at his left hand to find that he was holding Lucy's coat... but no Lucy.

Susan looked at his hand and felt her eyes widen. "What have you done?!" She turned, glancing around desperately, looking for her little sister. "Lucy?! Lucy!"

* * *

"Lucy?! Lucy!"

"Ella! Over there!"

Ella glanced up toward where Gwaindir was pointing and told Philip to go that way. They raced down the wet bank, hooves hitting hard against the muddy ground. When Ella caught sight of the small familiar figure, she urged her stallion to go faster. As they neared the drowning figure, Ella glanced up quickly, smirking slightly to herself when she noticed an arched tree up ahead.

"Philip, at my signal, you give me a boost, alright?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Realizing Ella's intention, Gwaindir urged his own stallion to hurry, so he could ride beside her, rather than behind. "Princess, I don't think that's a good—"

"Too late," she cut him off, standing on Philip's saddle. "Now!"

And the horse's rear rose abruptly, sending Ella flying forward. The chances of her catching hold of a branch were around a poor fifty percent, as well as the chances of it breaking under her weight. Luckily for her, she caught a thick branch and managed to pull herself up onto the tree, breaking a small branch along her climb.

"Sorry," she said, padding the tree.

The tree grunted slightly, then calmed down. Ella quickly scrambled to stand on her feet to walk toward the arch of the tree as it was no longer necessary to climb it. She waited a few seconds before jumping off the arc, straightening her body, legs shut together, arms forward as she dived into the freezing salt sea water. She resurfaced a few seconds later, glancing around frantically.

She was afraid she wouldn't find Lucy, what with the water rushing with such rage. She sucked in a breath and dived back in. She squinted her eyes, looked around frantically, resurfaced, then repeated the action for about five minutes before she finally caught sight of the small struggling figure. She quickly pushed herself toward it, pushing her muscles as hard as she could, only being slightly relieved when she finally caught a hold of Lucy's arm.

She pressed her back against the younger girl's chest and wrapped Lucy's arms around her neck before pushing upward as much as she could to keep the girl above the water.

"Ella!"

"Don't talk! Just hold onto me!" Ella shouted above the roaring water. "I'll get you out."

And she began swimming back toward where she could see land. She knew she was headed the right way when she caught sight of the arched tree she had jumped from. Noticing how it was arching downward even more, she smiled in spite of herself.

"Lucy! Grab on to the tree!"

"I can't!"

"Just try!"

"O-okay!"

And the little girl reached up. It was hard to reach the tree as her arms were small, but, after a third attempt, she caught a thick branch, and the tree instantly hauled her up and out of the water, dropping her on the grass-covered ground. Ella quickly swam after her, catching another offered branch, and hauled herself out of the water, landing beside Lucy. Both coughed and gasped for air as water flew out of their lungs.

Exhausted, they both slumped onto the ground beside each other. Lucy blinked and gazed toward her left; Ella was really there. Not only that, but she saved her.

"You saved me," said Lucy in a small voice, smiling tiredly. "Thank you."

Ella gave her a sideways glance and huffed, but then found herself smiling in the presence of the young Pevensie. "I can't rule Narnia alone, now, can I?"

Lucy grinned as she took hold of the older girl's hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"Lucy?! Lucy!"

Ella sighed, then grunted as she pushed herself up and helped Lucy onto her feet. "Go to them."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine; I know my way around. You— they've been looking for you for a while. They've probably got a coat you could wear; you're shivering," Ella replied, getting onto her feet and brushing some dirt and grass off herself, then squeezed some water out of her hair.

"When will I see you again?"

Ella smiled down at her. "When you meet the Great King. Now go."

Sighing, Lucy nodded and waved at Ella before stumbling off, following her siblings' calls.

"You truly care about them, don't you?"

Ella rolled her eyes at Gwaindir and grabbed her cloak from her bag she had tied on the side of Philip's saddle.

"I don't 'care,' I'm just _nice_... to a certain extent," she mumbled before mounting her stallion.

Gwaindir snorted and shook his head. "Of course you are, Princess."

"Come on," said Ella as she took hold of Philip's reins. "They'll get there soon enough."

* * *

"That was stupid. You could've gotten everyone killed!" Mister Beaver grumbled.

Peter rolled his eyes at him. "I feel pretty sure you could swim."

"It's not me I'm worried about! Why didn't you kill that wolf when you had the chance?"

They passed a budding tree, but neither Peter nor Beaver noticed.

"I tried!"

Susan whipped around, eyes flaming. "He saved your life! You should be thanking him!" Peter looked at her surprised, but Susan ignored his look and glared at the Beaver. "Now, you! Mister Beaver's right, it was stupid what you did, but right now isn't the time, we should be looking for—"

"Has anyone seen my coat?"

Peter and Susan spun around and almost simultaneously sighed in relief when they found their little sister standing there. Peter quickly rushed forward and wrapped Lucy's large coat around her small figure.

Mister Beaver sighed and shook his head. "Your brother has you well looked after," he decided.

Then, the previous tension dissipated from the air, leaving place to their laughter as they all embraced.

"I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore!" said Missus Beaver.

Confused and curious, they all followed Missus Beaver's finger and gaped in surprise and awe. All around them, Narnia erupted in life and color. Mister Beaver jumped back as yellow tulips burst from the earth. Missus Beaver just smiled and took his paw.

"Now, let's all calm down. We're nearly there."

Mister Beaver nodded. "You're right, m'dear." He then turned to look at the children. "It won't be long now."

He then began leading them uphill across some very deep, springy moss in a place where only tall trees grew, very wide apart. The climb, coming at the end of the long day, made them all pant and blow. And just as Lucy was wondering whether she could really get to the top without another long rest, suddenly they were at the top.

The Pevensies and Beavers gazed in awe at the Monolith.

They were on a green open space from which you could look down on the forest spreading as far as one could see in every direction— except right ahead. There, far to the East, was something twinkling and moving.

"My God!" whispered Peter to Susan, "the sea!"

In the very middle of this open hill-top was the Stone Table. It was a great grim slab of gray stone supported on four upright stones. It looked very old, and it was cut all over with strange lines and figures that might be the letters of an unknown language. They gave you a curious feeling when you looked at them. The next thing they saw was a pavilion pitched on one side of the open place. A wonderful pavilion it was— and especially now when the light of the setting sun fell upon it— with sides of what looked like yellow silk and cords of crimson and tent-pegs of ivory; and high above it on a pole a banner which bore a red rampant lion fluttering in the breeze which was blowing in their faces from the far-off sea. While they were looking at this, they heard a sound of music on their right, and, turning in that direction they saw what they had come to see.

Aslan stood in the center of a crowd of creatures who had grouped themselves around him in the shape of a half-moon. There were Tree-Women there and Well-Women (Dryads and Naiads as they used to be called in our world) who had stringed instruments; it was they who had made the music the Pevensie's had heard from afar. There were four great centaurs. There was also two unicorns, and a bull with the head of a man, and a pelican, and an eagle, and a great Dog. And next to Aslan stood two leopards of whom one carried his crown and the other his standard.

But as for Aslan himself, the Beavers and the children didn't know what to do or say when they saw him. People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time. If the children had ever thought so, they were cured of it now. For when they tried to look at Aslan's face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn't look at him and went all trembly.

"Go on," whispered Mister Beaver.

"No," whispered Peter, "you first."

"No, Sons of Adam before animals," whispered Mister Beaver back again.

"Susan," whispered Peter, "What about you? Ladies first."

"No, you're the eldest," whispered Susan.

And of course the longer they went on doing this, the more awkward they felt. Then, at last, Peter realized that it was up to him. He drew his sword and raised it to the salute and hastily saying to the others, "Come on. Pull yourselves together."

He advanced to the Lion and said, "We have come— Aslan."

"Welcome, Peter, Son of Adam," said Aslan. "Welcome, Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve. Welcome, He-Beaver and She-Beaver."

His voice was deep and rich and somehow took the fidgets out of them. They now felt glad and quiet, and it didn't seem awkward to them to stand and say nothing.

At that moment, the unexpected to the eldest Pevensies happened. The familiar dark-haired beauty glided ever so gracefully through the crowd and went to stand by the lion. Had the nerves not left them slightly, they would've been wrecked inside.

There stood the princess, at the Great King's side, head held high with incomparable confidence. Hair lightened slightly, lengthened and pulled back into a braid— the girl didn't even need a gown and a crown to look of high importance. Even with the pair of black leather trousers, the black shirt and green sleeveless tunic she wore over it, she looked strong— warrior-like, with the bow and quiver full of arrows slung over her shoulder diagonally, her sword sheathed and strapped to her hip, along with her shield strapped over the weapons on her back.

"But, where is the fourth?" asked Aslan.

The princess's young yet wistful eyes followed the lion's gaze, and an undecipherable look took over them as they stared at the siblings who were missing one.

"That's why we're here. We need your help," said Peter.

"We had a little trouble along the way," Susan chimed in.

"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch," the oldest Pevensie spoke. He kept his voice strong, but his eyes betrayed him.

"Captured? How could this happen?" asked the lion.

"He has tried to betray them, Your Majesty," said Mister Beaver.

Oreius growled as he stepped forward. "Then he has betrayed us all!"

"Peace, Oreius. I'm sure there's an explanation," said Aslan.

And then something made Peter say, "That was partly my fault, Aslan. I was too hard on him."

Susan stepped forward and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. "We all were."

And Aslan said nothing either to excuse Peter or to blame him but merely stood looking at him with his great unchanging eyes. And it seemed to all of them that there was nothing to be said.

Lucy than braved herself into stepping forward. "Sir? He's our brother."

Aslan regarded the little girl with kind eyes. "I know, dear one. But that only makes the betrayal all the worse…"

Her bottom lip jutted out. "Can anything be done to save Edmund?"

"All shall be done," said Aslan. "But it may be harder than you think."

And then he was silent again for some time. The princess placed a hand on his mane, and he turned to look at the older girl with adoration clear in his eyes.

"Grandpapa, please," she mumbled.

He knew what she was asking, but he could not let her go, especially not now that one of the princes stray.

"I'm afraid that now you must not," he said quietly.

"But—"

"It is too dangerous. You can go, but wait until the day loses a bit of light. She will be camping by then as I am sure she is on her way."

Ella retracted hand and bowed her head, bending her legs in a small curtsy before spinning on her heels and gliding away.

Up to that moment, Lucy had been thinking how royal and strong and peaceful his face looked; now it suddenly came into her head that he looked sad as well. But next minute that expression was quite gone.

The Lion shook his mane and clapped his paws together. "Meanwhile, let the feast be prepared. Ladies, take these Daughters of Eve to the pavilion and minister to them."

* * *

"Look at her go," Lucy whispered in awe as she and Susan watched Ella practicing her sword fighting against several stronger, male opponents, a few female, and beating them all.

"She's good," Susan remarked, sharing her sister's admiration.

"Alright, _a hauta sinomë_," **(rest here,)** they heard her say.

Then, she sheathed her sword and made her way toward them. Lucy perked up as she watched the princess near her, but her sister was more panicked than ever. Just the previous day she had not believed her sister's words. Now, they actually were in Narnia, where Ella was _actually _a princess; Susan had no idea how to talk to her or act around her.

"At ease, my friend," Ella said calmly once she reached them. She had noticed the panicked look on Susan's face.

"Sorry," she blurted out.

"For thinking I was as mad as you thought your sister to be for believing in Narnia?"

Susan felt her face flush pink. "I'm really sorry about that, I—"

But Ella cut her off with a small laugh, surprising her. "It's alright. It was rather amusing, if I do say so myself."

Susan frowned. "If you knew this place was real, why didn't you insist so?"

"You can't force someone to believe what they've never believed. Lucy always believed what's beyond the human eye, so she got to taste the cake first. Edmund doesn't like to share, but some part of him believed as much as Lucy does. Peter's just growing up, so it would take seeing to believe, and you as well."

"How come we're all here then?"

"Because at times of trouble, people open their mind to anything so they can get away." A smug look flashed across Ella's face. "And I'm guessing the trouble you were trying to escape was Missus Macready?"

Susan, in spite of herself, giggled along with Lucy, who nodded. "How did you know?"

"Rather it'd be a coincidence or not, but I was running from her too when I first came to Narnia a little older. I accidentally broke a glass cabinet."

The three laughed softly.

"I wanted to give you this," she said, changing the subject.

She reached into a small leather pouch they had just realized was strapped around her waist, over her sword's sheath, and pulled out an ivory colored horn. Closing her pouch, she looked at Susan and handed it to her.

"I'm guessing the two of you will be together a lot while you're here, so I want you to have this in case anything goes wrong. The instant you blow in it, wherever you are, help of some kind will come to you."

Susan looked at the horn in wonder as she grabbed it and held it carefully. She then looked up at the princess and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

And Ella smiled.

"Feel free to go around, alright? I'll see you later, I've still got some more training to do for the day."

* * *

Peter stood on a hill, starting at a castle in the distance.

"That is Cair Paravel," said Aslan, walking up beside him. "The castle the five thrones in one of which you will sit, Peter, as High King."

Peter said nothing.

"You doubt the prophecy?"

"No, that's just it... Aslan, I'm not who you all think I am."

"Peter Pevensie, formerly of Finchley. … Beaver also mentioned you planned on turning him into a hat." Peter smiled. "Peter, there is a Deep Magic more powerful than any of us that rules over Narnia. It defines right from wrong and governs all our destinies. Yours and mine."

"But I couldn't even protect my own family."

"You've brought them safely this far."

Peter sighed. "Not all of them."

"Peter, I will do what I can to help your brother. But I need you to consider what I ask of you. … I too want my family safe."

At those words, Peter wondered to himself why he gazed down the hill toward the training area, where Ella was battling against an elf she seemed to always have around her.

Then, not even a minute later, a strange noise woke the silence suddenly. It was like a bugle, but richer.

Knowing Ella was no longer in possession of the horn as she had told him before that she would give it to the eldest female Pevensie, Aslan looked ahead, eyes squinting slightly with an indecipherable look in them.

"It is your sister's horn," said Aslan in a low voice; so low as to be almost a purr, if it is not disrespectful to think of a Lion purring.

For a moment, Peter did not understand. When had his sister gotten a horn? Never mind that! If she was blowing it and Aslan was commenting on it, then it must've meant she was in trouble of some sort.

Then, Peter saw all the other creatures start forward and heard Aslan say with a wave of his paw, "Back! Let the Prince win his spurs."

He understood and set off running as hard as he could to the pavilion. And there he saw a dreadful sight.

The Naiads and Dryads were scattering in every direction. Lucy was running towards him as fast as her short legs would carry her and her face was as white as paper. Then he saw Susan make a dash for a tree, and swing herself up, followed by a huge gray beast. At first, Peter thought it was a bear. Then he saw that it looked like an Alsatian, though it was far too big to be a dog. Then he realized that it was a wolf— a wolf standing on its hind legs, with its front paws against the tree-trunk, snapping and snarling. All the hair on its back stood up on end. Susan had not been able to get higher than the second big branch. One of her legs hung down so that her foot was only an inch or two above the snapping teeth. Peter wondered why she did not get higher or at least take a better grip; then he realized that she was just going to faint and that if she fainted, she would fall off.

Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do. He rushed straight up to the monster and aimed a slash of his sword at its side. That stroke never reached the Wolf. Quick as lightning it turned around, its eyes flaming, and its mouth wide open in a howl of anger. If it had not been so angry that it simply had to howl it would have got him by the throat at once. As it was— though all this happened too quickly for Peter to think at all— he had just time to duck down and plunge his sword, as hard as he could, between the brute's forelegs into its heart. Then came a horrible, confused moment like something in a nightmare. He was tugging and pulling, and the Wolf seemed neither alive nor dead, and its bared teeth knocked against his forehead, and everything was blood and heat and hair. A moment later he found that the monster lay dead and he had drawn his sword out of it and was straightening his back and rubbing the sweat off his face and out of his eyes. He felt tired all over.

Then, after a bit, Susan came down the tree. She and Peter felt pretty shaky when they met, and I won't say there wasn't kissing and crying on both sides. But in Narnia, no one thinks any the worse of you for that.

"Follow him," Aslan ordered. "He will lead you to Edmund."

Suddenly, Ella appeared out of nowhere and cried out, "Midnight!"

And a midnight black, uni-horned stallion came cantering toward her. She ran forward, black cloak flying behind her, then, barely a foot away, she jumped, gracefully landing on his saddle.

Grabbing the unicorn's reins, she shouted, "Go!" And she soon disappeared into the gathering darkness, with a thunder of hoofs belonging to a dozen or so of the swiftest creatures, who followed right behind her.

* * *

"Stop!"

They did. The Witch's camp was just a few yards away, a small fire visible in the distance Ella and her troupe had left between them.

"Oreius, I want the place surrounded. They don't know we followed them, so we have an advantage."

"Sneak attack?" Gwaindir chimed in.

Ella nodded as she slid off the unicorn's back. "I'm going in first. I'll get Edmund; then I'll leave the rest to you." She looked at Midnight and patted his head. "Follow me _quietly_, alright?"

Neigh.

A warm smile curled onto her lips from under the large hood of her dark cloak. "Thank you, my friend."

"Will you be alright alone, Your Majesty?"

Ella nodded. "I'll be fine. Follow Oreius, Gwaindir."

"Of course."

With that planned, Ella marched ahead with Midnight walking right at her heels, both hiding in the shadows of the trees as to not be noticed, while the others went in two directions to surround the camp as instructed.

As soon as they reached their destination, Ella pulled her stallion behind a large bark, where she began to survey the scene. Edmund was not far away from the edge of the camp, but it was far enough to have about twelve monsters around him. Not to mention that stupid dwarf was guarding him.

"Is our little prince comfortable?" she heard the dwarf taunt Edmund. "Does he want his pillow fluffed? Special treatment for the special boy. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Ella looked around the camp; there was not much to work with. In a few moments, the camp would be surrounded as planned and she would not be as outnumbered as she currently was. She glanced toward the tent that the Witch was under and listened carefully. Jadis was talking with a Minotaur about battle plans. Having an idea, Ella brought out her bow and an arrow. Aiming for the highest cord on the tent, she shot.

Bullseye! ... or whatever you call it when it comes to a rope.

The rope snapped, and the tent fell on the Witch and the Minotaur and anyone else in it.

"Get me out of here! Get this thing off me!" Ella heard the Witch scream.

She watched as every creature around came to help get the tent off, leaving Ella with the perfect opportunity to snatch Edmund from their grasp. While the dwarf was watching what was happening, Ella jumped down from the tree. Edmund turned when he heard her, and his eyes widened. Putting her finger up to her lips, she began to cut his bonds. She then took the dwarf by surprise. Still looking the other way, Ella knocked him out and tied him to the tree.

"Come on," she whispered to Edmund.

Not saying a word, he followed. When they were a safer distance away, he spoke.

"Who are you?"

She did not reply, but he found himself gasping in surprise when she pulled her hood down. Without a word, she took off her cloak and wrapped it around his shivering body.

"Come on," she said softly, leading him toward the shadow of the tree she'd been hiding behind. He gaped when he saw the unicorn, but at this point, he was no longer too surprised; he had after all been held prisoner with a Faun by a witch and dwarves and minotaurs, and other creatures.

She pulled him up into her arms and placed him onto the black stallion's back, before mounting herself behind him. At that moment, another stallion cantered over, carrying a man with pointy ears on his back.

"Princess."

"Gwaindir," she returned the greeting. "I assume the ambush has continued from where I left off?"

"Indeed," he replied. "Oreius has sent me to watch your back while you take the prince to the Table."

With one nod from Ella, Edmund found himself flying through the forest, with the princess' arms wrapped securely around his waist, to keep him from falling, as her hands held her stallion's reins.

* * *

Edmund woke up in a red and gold tent, with drapes and curtains that made him feel closer to a home than he had in a long time.

"Where am I?"

"The Stone Table," a voice said beside him. He turned his head to the girl who saved his life.

He hesitated. "... Ella?"

"Hello, Edmund," she said quietly.

"... you saved me."

"I wouldn't really call it saving. More like lending a fellow ruler a hand."

"The Witch—"

She placed a hand on his forehead and gave him a small smile. "It's alright, Edmund. You don't have to worry about her right now. You're safe." She then got up ready to leave, when suddenly his hand shot out from his side and grabbed hers, stopping her.

"Can you stay?" he asked in a small voice.

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Move over, big boy," she said softly, lifting the large blanket that covered him. Edmund scrambled around a bit until there was enough space for her. The moment she settled in, however, he hurried into her open arms that offered the comfort and protection he sought.

Smiling softly, she wrapped an extra blanket closer, over their bodies, before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close to keep him warm with not only the blanket but also the warmth of her own body.

A long moment of silence passed, and though it was a rather comfortable silence, Ella knew the boy was not about to sleep just yet, especially not after whatever had been done to him by the Witch. He wouldn't have asked her to stay had the case been otherwise. She didn't know Edmund all too well, but she knew he was the kind of person who was too proud of himself to show any weakness. However, she had a feeling that was about to change soon.

Opting to do what her mother always did whenever she had nightmares, Ella held the boy close and began to sing softly in his ear. However, the song she sang was not the one of the colors, but one of the stars.

"_Constant as the stars above, darling, you will always be loved..._"

Her soft voice flowed around and out of her tent, echoing through the calm, silent night. The many Narnians who were still awake stopped their doings and listened to the beautiful voice they knew belonged to their dear princess.

"_Will help you make your dreams come true... will help your dreams come true._"

Peter lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Many thoughts flashed through his head, though it stopped as soon as the singing voice reached his ears. He closed his eyes and savored it as it soared through the air like a nightingale singing beautifully at night.

_"I'll cradle you in my arms tonight as sun embraces the moonlight..._" A small, sad chuckle rang in her head before the familiar soprano voice that sounded like the soft blow of an ocarina continued to sing.

"Susan!" Lucy whispered.

"... hmmm, what?"

"Listen."

"Lucy, what are you on ab—"

"_The clouds will carry us off tonight..._ _Our dreams will run deep like the sea..._"

She listened.

"That's Ella."

"_Constant as the stars above, always know that you are loved..._"

"... she's got a beautiful voice."

"Yes, she really does."

And they continued to listen until her voice slowly lulled them to sleep.

"_And my love shining in you... will help you make your dreams come true..._" Pause. "_Will help your dreams come true..._"

* * *

"Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane... s'got a nice ring to it."

Peter let out a startled yelp, then spun around, coming face to face with yours truly, Ella. His face reddened. He had seen her wearing dresses now and then, but none like the long violet gown she was wearing. Like all other clothes in Narnia, the gown held a medieval air.

The satin-looking gown hugged her figure, following her curves. The dark purple was gorgeous against her pale russet skin, giving it a rather peculiar yet stunning glow. The sleeves widened from the elbows, downward, where the thick fabric changed into a silky veil-like material. The bodice altogether was complimented by the violet pair of flats her feet were slipped into. Her hair, which he usually saw either braided or in a fashionably curled mess, was down in neat curls, a golden crown adorning the top of her head. Around her neck hung a golden necklace that practically matched the crown and the golden patterns on her dress. She always wore it, he noticed.

"You heard about that?"

"Have you forgotten I was there when you killed the wolf before I set out to find your brother?"

"Edmund!" he suddenly remembered. "Is he alright? Did you find him? Is—"

"Calm your horses, Pensive." He blushed. "Edmund is fine. He's up there talking with gran— Aslan."

Making a mental note on her slip-up, Peter followed her gaze and saw Edmund talking to Aslan on a hill. Then, the girls walked out of the tent and joined them, though Lucy noticed her other brother before Susan.

"Edmund!"

Ella's arm shot in front of her, stopping her mid-pounce. Puzzled, Lucy looked back at Ella, who shook her head at her. "Wait a moment."

They looked back toward the lion and the boy, only to see them looking back at them. Aslan then motioned Edmund down, and they both went toward the group of his siblings and Ella.

"What's done is done. There is no need to speak to Edmund about what is past."

With that said, Aslan walked off, Ella trailing behind him.

Edmund looked at his siblings for a moment before looking at the ground in shame. He doubted they would be as forgiving as Ella had been, even though she had not voiced it; he knew he had given his siblings a really hard time.

"Hello," he mumbled.

Not waiting another second, Lucy and Susan launched themselves at him, hugging him tightly.

"How are you feeling?" Susan asked softly.

"I'm a little tired." He had slept the previous night, but being within the Witch's grasp had really drained him.

"Get some rest," Peter said curtly. Edmund nodded and began to make his way toward the tent he'd been told he would share with his brother.

"And Edmund…" The boy looked back at his older brother. "Try not to wander off again," Peter added with a small smile Edmund returned.

It feels good to be reunited...


	12. Oaths and Preparations

**Oaths and Preparations**

Morning bloomed, and Peter stared out the flap, watching troops prepare for battle, his hand nervously fumbling with his sword. A few feet behind him, Susan, Lucy and Edmund sat on the grass, eating their breakfast from a small table implanted into the ground.

"Narnia isn't going to run out of toast, Ed." Lucy laughed as she watched her brother eat himself to death. Edmund smiled, his mouth still full.

"And I'm sure they'll pack something for us when we go," said Susan.

Lucy looked up from her eggs, confused. "Go where?"

"Back to the lamp-post. We could be home in a couple of days." Everyone stopped and looked at Susan, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, now that we've got Edmund—"

"But we can't leave now!" Lucy exclaimed in despair.

Peter turned from the flap and faced his family. "Aslan didn't take us into his care, nor did Ella go rescue Edmund so that we could just abandon Narnia, Susan."

"They need us," Lucy agreed. "All four of us. Ella said so. She said she can't rule without us either. Well... it wasn't _really _in those words. It was more like—"

"Lucy, it's too dangerous," Susan cut her off. She turned her gaze over to her older brother and narrowed her eyes in stubbornness. "Because it's a war." She then looked over to Edmund for support. "Lucy almost drowned and Edmund already nearly lost his life too!"

"But Ella saved us," Lucy argued. "Both of us."

"Which is why we must stay," Peter agreed.

Susan let out a small laugh in disbelief. "Well then what are we supposed to do?"

"Whatever we can." They all looked at Edmund surprised. He put his fork down, grave and serious. "I've seen what the White Witch can do… and I've helped her do it." He pushed away his plate. "Ella may be _very_ strong, but she can't do this on her own. If we leave, we'll be leaving, not only these people behind to suffer for it but also Ella. We have to stay. We have to help."

Peter looked at his brother, respect growing on his face. Lucy took Edmund's hand and squeezed it slightly, offering comfort.

Peter turned to Susan. "Ed's right. We have to do our part."

"Does our part include getting killed?"

"We just have to make sure it doesn't."

Silence fell upon them.

After a long moment, Susan stood. "I guess that's it then."

"Where are you going?" Lucy asked.

Susan grabbed her bow and quiver from the ground. "To find Ella. I need to get some practice done, and I'm not sure how to shoot this, never mind that a man in a red suit told me it never misses."

* * *

"Those targets are about forty feet away. Luckily, there is no wind today, no doubt due to the heat around here, so I won't have to compensate for it."

"... why can't we start with closer targets?"

"Because they're the easiest. If you start with the hardest and master it, you'll be able to do the closest eyes closed," Ella explained. "Now, watch carefully."

Ella drew an arrow from her back quiver and notched it on the bowstring. The bolt had a simple metal pointed tip and looked to be made out of the same black material the arms on the bow were made out of.

"Legs shoulder width apart, arms taut," said Ella, taking a shooting stance. "Draw your arm back slowly, no need to rush it... Squeeze your back muscles and... There!"

She let loose her arrow, and it flew off, the bowstring making a quiet _snap_ as it did so. The arrow _thunk'd!_ into the wooden target a few inches shy of the bullseye.

She shrugged and turned to Susan. "Did you get that?" she asked.

"Yes!" Susan said with a grin. She decided that she liked archery _very_ much.

Ella nodded. "Alright, now, you try."

Copying every moment Ella had previously shown her, Susan took her aim. Taking a deep breath, she let go of the bowstring, shooting an arrow. She missed the target by a little.

"It's alright," Ella said softly. "You did very well on your first try. Just keep practicing, and you'll get the target in no time."

And so Susan kept it going. It always got closer and closer to the red in the center of the target, but she never quite hit it. Suddenly, as she aimed her twelfth arrow, a dagger shot forward, hitting the bullseye. Susan looked to her left and scowled when she saw it had been her little sister who had hit the target dead on. With a newfound determination, she lifted her bow and arrow and took her aim. She let go, and...

_Thunk!_

Ella fought back a smile, giving Susan a prideful nod.

Susan continued practicing with the elves while Ella taught Lucy how to handle her dagger. The girl was good at throwing, but a dagger was mainly reserved for when there were attacks made at a close distance.

"They don't have the reach or power of a sword," Ella told her, "but they're easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy's armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. And I have a feeling you're pretty clever."

Lucy beamed at her. "I am clever!"

Ella chuckled and tousled Lucy's hair.

It wasn't long before the Pevensie boys joined them. Edmund went straight to Lucy and Susan, who animatedly showed him everything Ella taught them, both dagger and archery. Ella was watching them with a fond look when Peter came up to her and, for the first time, took her by surprise.

He asked her to train him.

She regarded the golden-haired boy for a moment with hard eyes. It was one thing to teach an eight-year-old how to maneuver a sheathed dagger, and a thirteen-year-old how to shoot a bow— it was less dangerous, more relaxing, and there was less of a chance she would hurt them. But what Peter was asking, was that she train him at sword fighting. That's not just swinging a sword, it's much more physical, and though she was a girl, she knew she was perfectly capable of severely injuring him. The only reason the others she usually trains with weren't seriously hurt was because they were used to the way she fought. Peter wasn't— he probably never even saw her fight. While he did, she didn't know that, so she couldn't help but feel somewhat skeptical.

"You know what you're asking, Pensive?"

Edmund frowned in confusion, then leaned toward Susan. "Did she just call him Pensive?"

"... yeah, she does that."

Peter looked at Ella, his strong gaze almost faltering under her hard one. "I am asking you to train me."

She arched a brow. "You do know I won't go easy on you, right?"

She was purposely making him hesitate, and he knew that. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Yes."

She regarded him a moment longer before giving him a short not. "Meet me in the sword fighting area in ten minutes, Pensive," was all she said before turning her back to the four Pevensies and stalking off.

"Ella!"

She continued on her way, though she slowed down her pace. "Edmund," she greeted.

Edmund was silent for a moment, and simply followed her; he was unsure how to start. "I believe that I owe you two huge things," he began, and Ella finally stopped, looking down at him, her eyes still hard, yet a bit curious. "The first thing is that I owe you is an apology. I heard Hunta was your friend, and—"

Ella frowned and raised her hand. Edmund flinched back, thinking she would hit him as the Witch had done many times. At that moment, however, he realized that Ella was more than meets the eye. She always showed herself to be cold and reserved, and he, nor his siblings knew why. What else he realized was that Narnia seemed to bring out the side of her she practically tried to burn back at home, on the other side of the wardrobe. She was patient, understanding, protective of those she cared for, and very forgiving as well.

_She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a pained **smile**_. She wasn't going to hurt him.

"I know what you're trying to ask, Edmund, so I'm going to stop you right there. Aslan told me what you told him: exactly what happened. So I can assure you now, there is no forgiveness needed to be asked for as there is nothing to forgive. I didn't know Hunta very well, but I cared for him, just as much as I care for every single Narnian about. I know you tried to protect him, and for that, I am grateful," she said softly, bowing her head slightly in a sign of respect.

She pulled her hand away and stepped back. "I also know you want to learn how to fight. I will teach you after I have taught your brother, but in the meantime, rest. You must still be drained from your time away."

_From your time away_, she said. She didn't use any reproachful words, so he knew she didn't have anything against him; if she'd had in the past, she had forgiven him.

By the time the ten minutes had passed, Edmund was walking around with his sisters, while Peter made his way over to Ella. He'd been late. Doing what, Ella did not know, nor did she care, and though his tardiness ticked her off, she shrugged it off and pulled him inside the armory where she began the lesson.

"You have your basic ground sword, your double-edged sword— good for horse-back— then you have your jagged sword which is not the best for an offense because it is heaviest, and you have your hunting blades which are used for hunting things." She pointed each sword type weapon out and waited for his decision.

"You want me to choose?" He looked her over, somewhat confused.

She rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically, "No, I want you to say 'hi' and be friends with them." She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes. "Yes, you have to choose the one you are most comfortable with, and we will go from there."

Slowly, Peter walked over to the blades and gingerly picked up the double-edged sword and balanced it in his hand with a slight frown on his face. "If I chose this one, I won't have to get on a horse, right?"

Ella bit her lip, fighting back a smile and grabbed a double-edged sword as well. "No, you won't have to."

"_Hiril vuin,_" **(My Lady)** Gwaindir grinned at Ella as he threw on some chain mail.

The princess nodded her greeting to the elf, wordlessly. She eyed him warily as she noticed a mischievous glint flash through his eyes. The elf turned to look at the golden-haired boy and bowed.

"_Hîr vuin_," **(My Lord)** the elf greeted. "_Im Gwaindir._" **(I am Gwaindir)**

Ella groaned. "Gwaindir, he doesn't—"

"_Ú-bedin edhellen_," **(I don't speak Narnian)** the golden-haired boy replied slowly. "At least not more than that."

Ella looked at him and blinked owlishly, then jumped slightly, startled by Gwaindir's sudden laughter. She scowled, then looked at Peter.

"Where did you learn that?"

Peter blushed. "A Dryad taught it to me when a bunch of elves came ranting to me about something I couldn't understand."

Ella locked her gaze with his for a moment, and he realized she was trying to fight back a smile as her eyes twinkled with amusement.

Gwaindir, having stopped laughing a while ago, stepped toward Peter and looked at the boy with a smile. "If you would, Your Majesty, I would like it if you and I went head to head—"

Peter paled a little. "But I don't— I just— she was going to—"

"Nonsense! I am sure you will do just fine, _Hîr vuin_," **(My Lord)** said Gwaindir. He then leaned in to whisper in Peter's ear. "Between you and me— ignore everything the princess says. She's an instinctive fighter; that means she has no idea what to say when it comes to training." He chuckled, and Peter nodded obediently.

Irritated, Ella pulled a hunting knife off the rack and threw it at the wood right beside Gwaindir's head, internally grinning as it released a silencing _Thunk_.

She glared at him. "Shut up, Felvanthar, forget not that I have spectacular hearing." She pointed her nose up in the air and looked down on the elf. "Besides— nothing is wrong with being instinctive— you should try it sometime. I mean, that is how I survived my first time here in Narnia before I even met you."

With that, she stalked out of the armory and stormed off towards the arena.

"Hey, wasn't she supposed to train me?" Peter asked.

Gwaindir chuckled. "Oh, she will. She has to. Once she agrees to something, she mutely gives her word. And if there is one thing anyone can be sure of when it comes to the princess is that she never goes back on her word." He patted Peter on the shoulder and smiled at him. "Perhaps we can battle when she's done with you."

Peter looked at him wide-eyed. "_Done with me?_"

"Hurry up, Pensive! I don't have all day!" they heard Ella call from outside the armory.

They quickly rushed outside to meet her, knowing that an angry Ella wouldn't be the best sight to see.

Peter soon found himself standing in the middle of the field with his weapon at his side, awaiting Ella's command. She looked him over and sighed. "No! You've got that all wrong. Rule number One: Always draw your sword before the fight!" She walked around him in a calculating circle. "Repeat!"

"U-uh, Rule number One, always draw your sword before the fight begins." He smiled tightly at her and watched her every move with slight nervousness.

Ella stood in front of him once more and lunged at him. He fumbled his weapon, and it clattered to the floor with a pitiful clank. Sighing, she picked it up and thrust it into his hand once more. "Rule number Two. Relax. If you are stiff— things like that will happen often." She smirked at him. "Repeat!"

And this was how it was for the first hour; she kept making him repeat every rule that she could think of until he could recite them all backward and forwards. However, reciting it all was one thing. Doing it was another.

"Quit being so rigid, Peter!" she grumbled, slicing her sword at his arm and watching as the fresh blood slowly dripped from her new cut.

He stumbled backward, his sword dropping to the ground as he pressed his hand over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He slowly lifted his hand from the wound, watching, even more, blood drip down his now red stained arm.

"You could've killed me, you know?" he said.

She rolled her eyes, not even sparing a glance at him. "But I didn't," she said quietly, averting her gaze from his eyes. After a long period of somewhat comfortable silence and just staring at their weapons, she finally spoke up again. "Okay! Well, enough chitchat, we should probably continue your training, don't want you to die out in the upcoming battle."

"Yeah, we should do that," he agreed quickly, remembering the reason he and his siblings had stayed.

He grabbed his sword and held it in his hand once more, and she moved, so she stood directly in front of him. With her hand on his, sending tingles where their skin touched, she positioned his hand so that the sword fit more comfortably. He started to wonder whether she felt the same feeling as he had felt when they touched but quickly dismissed the thought when she shot him a glare. She moved the rest of his arm so that it was in its proper position, kicking her feet apart at the same time. They'd only been training for an hour and half of that she spent teaching him how to stand, hold a sword, and attack and block properly, but he still didn't get it... well, he was also kind of doing it on purpose— though it rendered him puzzled, he liked the way she made him feel even though he didn't understand how she did it, or why he felt so.

"Now, I want you to focus and listen to everything I say very carefully," she began to explain less vaguely as she stepped back and brought out her sword. "Don't be so stiff when you are fighting. It's what can get you killed. You need to let your body relax, let loose so your battle instincts can tell your body what to do. If you don't... then you'll get cut twenty times worse then I cut you. You and I are going to have a nice talk, get to know each other, but at the same time fight. Don't focus on the sword and how it moves, and don't try to make it move a certain way. That's why you have your instincts. Focus on me, on my words, because the minute you stop is the minute I win."

He blinked; this was probably the most he had ever heard say.

"But I'm never going to have a nice civilized conversation with someone I'm fighting in battle," he pointed out.

"But you need to learn to trust your instincts, especially when you're distracted," she replied.

Waiting no longer, she lunged forward and swung her sword, and he instantly felt pain shooting through the same arm she had sliced before, his free hand and his forehead. He hissed in pain, but when he saw her roll her eyes, he regained his focus as she started approaching him. She put her sword down and grabbed his arm delicately, inspecting the cut. He watched her as she furrowed her brows and placed a hand a few inches above his wound.

"_Epoulo̱thoún_," **(Heal)** she murmured, and as soon as she did, he could feel all of his cuts closing up slowly.

Once it was all healed, he looked up to thank her, but instantly got lost in her hazelnut eyes that were shining only more beautifully with that hint of forest green and gold they held when the sun reflected itself upon them. Her eyes slightly widened in shock as she stared back into his own sky blue eyes. Recognition flashed through her features before he could see many different emotions starting to cloud her face; out of all of them, he caught... hurt.

_Ella let out a tired sigh that made it look as though she was giving up. "Because... I'm not. I'm not supposed to be here," she answered back, confusing him more. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile when she saw the look on his face. "You won't understand. I just… I don't belong here."_

_"Of course you do!" he exclaimed himself, grabbing her hand. "Of course you belong here."_

_She shook her head, pulling her hand away._ _"London may withhold a unique beauty, but it's not the same. It's not my home, Mason." She settled her brown eyes at him and sadly smiled. "I don't belong here."_

_"You baffle me," the young man replied, expelling a soft sigh. "I don't even know how to properly interact with you anymore. You're annoyed by me, aren't you? That's why you are so keen on going wherever you think you belong." To his surprise, she looked at him in amusement._

_"I just can't be with someone. Not right now." Or maybe ever. "One'll end up hurt in the end."_

_He looked at her with soft eyes. "I would never hurt you."_

_She gave him a sardonic smile as she shook her head. "I never said I would be the one hurt." That made him look at her curiously. "_ _My heart isn't unguarded, Mason; it's shielded with an iron dome that keeps it from entirely breaking apart. Though it may get rusted, I'm always ready."_

She quickly averted her gaze from his eyes but didn't look away from him as she picked up her sword and took a step back.

"So where are you from, Pensive?" she asked.

He doesn't know how, but it was like she was trying to keep him from looking away from her and let his eyes drift down to their weapons; she succeeded, though. He never looked away from her strange hazelnut, green and gold-speckled eyes, even though she avoided his gaze. He could hear their swords clashing, and he felt her arm moving to counter his attacks, but she seemed to pay no attention.

"Born and raised here in Finchley, what about you? And I also need a nickname for you if you're going to keep calling me Pensive all the time, which I still don't know how you came up with or why you call me that," he replied.

"For nicknames, I don't really know what you can call me; no one has a specific nickname for me. Pensive... I remember answering that long ago. As for where I am from, I was born here, though raised... in London." She shrugged. "At the Professor's house."

Truly, she wasn't certain of where exactly she was raised. The Kirke family almost always left her with the Professor; that was how she had met Mason in the first place. Plus, she was homeschooled for a long while before being admitted to a public school after her mother's death.

Peter stopped dead on his tracks when he noticed her hesitation. "You hesitated. Why did you hesitate when you mentioned London?"

He knew right after those words left his lips that he was going to need a lot of training. Apparently, his instincts weren't so bad, but they had him grab his sword with both hands and slice it through the air and down at her. Without even thinking she sidestepped, missing the terrible attempt to hit her as she slowly continued to advance on him.

"It's good to know things, Peter, especially when you're near a warring time, but there are just things that are better to be left unknown," she told him in a serious tone. She dropped her sword onto the ground, then straightening herself. "Lunge forward."

He gave her a puzzled look. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Lunge forward, strike— attack me!" she ordered.

"Wha— why— no! You're unarmed!"

"I know," she replied in a tone that suggested it were obvious. "But forget that, just attack me."

"But I—"

"Now!"

He uneasily charged at her, but she moved out of the way, tripping him over as he ran past. Swinging his sword rather fast for an amateur, she dodged him and sent a punch across his cheek. It felt like hitting hardened sand before she knocked him over. Losing focus for a second, he swung his legs across sending her flat on her back. He placed the tip of his sword on her chest, but she just smirked at him. Flipping up her legs, she twisted his arm, making him drop his sword. Kicking it away she placed one hand on his chest and sent him flying down against the arena. Reaching her hand out, his sword flew into her hand, rendering her a bit confused at what seemed to be magic that she performed, but she did not falter; she had his own sword against his neck as he was panting.

Raising the sword up, she sent it flying down to deliberately miss his cheek. She leaned down towards his ear to feel his warm breath against her neck.

"Well done, Peter. You don't suck as much as you did at first," she murmured, holding a hand out.

"You're not going to throw me back to the ground, are you?" he asked, eyeing her hand. And she emitted that joyful musical sound that sounded like a chorus of bells.

She _laughed_.

"No, I'm not." Relieved, Peter took her hand, allowing her to haul him up onto his feet. "You were terrible with the sword against someone weaponless, but you're ready for any other battle."

"Thanks," he said.

She nodded and gazed off in the distance at the sun that was now lower in the sky. "Now go eat, take a warm bath, then rest. Tomorrow's gonna be tough, and you need your strength," she said in a soft voice.

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" he asked, watching her curiously.

"You and Edmund are going horse-back riding," she replied.

"And you?"

"I'll be the tour guide," she replied sarcastically before turning away from him and making her way towards the woods.

"Wait," he called after her. She stopped, letting him catch up. "Aren't you going to eat?"

She looked down at her feet and smiled down at herself, shaking her head. "Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really hungry." She glanced sideways at him and saw him blushing while shyly scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh, okay... then I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You're done for today," she confirmed. "Tell Edmund to come see me for his lessons when he's done."

"Alright, then... um... bye," he said.

Ella suddenly froze when she felt a soft pair of slightly chapped lips press against her cheek. She blinked owlishly, though when she turned, the golden-haired boy had already run off to meet his siblings.

She stood there for a long moment, dazed. "_Am man theled?_" **(Why?)** she finally said, more so to herself as there was no one around.

* * *

"_Ánin apsenë, Hîr vuin_," **(Forgive me, My Lord)** an elf greeted, lifting her gown up slightly as she bowed her head and curtsied before him. Peter did not understand the language, but he had heard that elf— Gwaindir say it a few times, so he knew she was calling him by title and apologizing for coming abruptly.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if, perhaps, you knew where Her Majesty is? Gwain— a knight said you had been the last to see her?"

"I was, erm...?"

"Borneth."

"Borneth," he repeated. "I was one of the last to see her. She is currently training my brother in sword fighting, though."

Borneth sighed. "She hasn't eaten yet, has she?"

Peter shook his head. "She said she wasn't hungry."

The elf sighed again, then nodded. "Thank you, _Hîr vuin_," was her reply before she spun on her heels and glided away from Peter and his sisters.

* * *

_Clang!_

"Why can't I use a shield?"

_Clang!_

"Because your brother didn't use one."

"But he's older!"

_Clang!_

"And you're younger, which means—" She paused for a moment as the boy lunged towards her again, another loud _Clang_ rattling only to follow a loud _thump_. Edmund's sword was under her foot as he laid down flat on the floor on his back, with a sword resting on his silver breastplate.

"You could easily be disarmed due to your age making you slightly weaker. You have to learn how to defend yourself without of shield. I'll teach you later on how to do so without anything at all."

"You mean naked?!"

She rolled her eyes as she sheathed her sword. "No, you egghead. I mean without a weapon; a mere dagger just in case, but you need to know how to last even after you're completely disarmed."

"Were you this hard on Peter?"

Ella snorted. "No, I was harder."

"So you call _this_ nice?"

"I call _this_ being understanding. You only got back last night. I should have made you undergo what I did Peter, but I didn't, so deal with it," she said. "Now, go rest."

Edmund grunted as he stood. "But I've rested enough."

She merely raised an eyebrow at him as she began to count in her head. _Three. Two. One..._

_Yawn._

She fought back a smile and shook her head. Placing a hand on his head, she tilted her own, giving him a small smile. "Go rest, brown eyes."

And soon, Ella was left alone once again, staring at the darkened sky. Sighing to herself, she walked back to her tent and shed herself of her weapons and clothes, slipping on a green gown she knew Borneth and put aside for her. She then untied her hair and undid her braid, letting her hair fall loose past her shoulders, before placing her crown on her head. Subconsciously, she then made her way toward her mirror. There, she stood before it, gazing down at her golden necklace which she never removed; it had belonged to her mother, Queen Radriella.

Ella sighed again; thinking of her biological mother made her think of her biological father. Instinctively, she glanced toward the sword and shield she had hidden behind her clothed wardrobe. Staring at it for a moment, she finally willed herself to grab the sword after having put it the moment she had gotten it. She strapped the belt around her hips and, after admiring herself with it in her mirror, she unsheathed it and wandered her eyes over the blade, allowing one single finger on it to trace her father's name and title.

"Child." Ella sheathed her sword, turned around, and saw Aslan standing before her. "Follow me," he said.

Ella slipped her green cloak on, then gladly followed the lion. They quietly walked out of her tent and into the dark night. It was silent between them for a moment before Aslan spoke.

"You've done a brave and noble thing, and I do not just speak of your rescuing Edmund last night." Aslan turned to look her straight in the eye. "Forgiveness is something many people have not mastered, yet your heart gave it freely."

"Grandpapa, I have always heard that you should treat others the way that you want to be treated," said Ella in a soft voice. "I would want forgiveness for my actions, as he wanted forgiveness for his."

Aslan nodded his head and began walking again. Ella followed.

"What does your heart tell you to do now?" he asked.

She pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "I have many doubts in myself, and I still do not think that I am yet a warrior, nor a princess fit queen. I am not even sure that I should even be considered either."

"You still doubt the fact that I chose you, you mean."

No word was needed to confirm that as her betraying eyes gave it all away. However, she felt the need to say it because she wanted to know...

"You could have chosen so many others who are stronger than I. Quicker, smarter— you could have chosen anyone better than me." She paused. "Yet you chose _me_. Why? Is it simply because I am your granddaughter?"

Aslan was silent for a moment, but not because he was thinking about what to say. "When I choose someone, I never make a mistake; it has nothing to do with your relation to me. I chose you not for your strength or speed, but for your heart."

"I am a broken girl, Aslan. My heart and soul have been torn to pieces long ago," said Ella, finally willing herself to cry for the first time in a long time.

"Which is why you must let me mend it, _Henig_," **(My child)** said Aslan. "Your heart has so much good in it, but you are right, it is broken. And so is your soul. They are hurt. They are weak. But to be well again, you must let me mend them."

Ella fell to her knees before her grandfather, the Great Lion.

"Then mend it. Mend it all," she whispered.

Aslan came up closely to Ella's face. Opening his mouth, he breathed upon her. Suddenly, her heart felt light— it felt _life_. She closed her eyes as it moved through her. She no longer felt as if a burden was on it anymore. She felt the power that had surged upon her the first time she had gone to Narnia in her awareness. She felt strength, bravery; a love fill her to the core. When she opened her eyes— oh, her once hazelnut, green-specked eyes glowed gold as they shed tears.

"Hold out the hilt of your sword to me," Aslan said.

Ella took out the sword, and as Aslan's paw touched the hilt, the sword changed. The already long blade became even longer and sharper, and on the hilt, a ruby, much like the one on her necklace, appeared, only larger.

"You, Er_ella_—" She blinked in confusion but remained as she was. "— daughter of King Richard Thomass and Queen Radriella, have sworn an oath to yourself, as a ruler to come, to protect Narnia with your all. But now, _I_ ask you this; do you," Aslan said, "promise to protect Narnia when enemies cross its borders? Do you promise to guard its people when danger comes through your path? And do you promise, to protect your fellow rulers, Kings, and Queens of Narnia, no matter what the cost? Even unto death?"

At a younger age, Ella would have said no. But not know. Now, she was ready.

"I, Erella—" He called her so, so why change it? "— promise to protect Narnia when enemies cross its borders. I promise to guard its people when danger comes through my path and to protect my fellow rulers, Kings, and Queens of Narnia, no matter what the cost. I cannot promise that bad things will not come. I cannot even promise that I will not fail. But I do promise to do these things to the best of my abilities, unto death takes me."

"That is all that you can give," Aslan said, smiling. "Rise, Erella the Lionheart—" And she shed a tear; her father was called so. "— the First Warrior, and soon First _High_ Queen of Narnia!"

Ella stood up and felt that finally, she had found peace within herself. She had broken free.

She readied herself to sheath her sword, though stop short when her now unglowing, hazelnut eyes saw something else had changed about it. Her father's name was no longer the name engraved upon it. _No_. Now, it was hers.

_Erella the Lionheart_

A tear slid down her cheek, but a small smile graced her lips.

The silence remained as the walk under the moonlight resumed. Ella loved this new feeling; she felt genuinely calm, at peace. The battle was still on her mind, though for once she paid it no ounce of her care. She pushed it to the far back of her mind and focused on the peace surrounding her as she walked quietly, her hand entangled in the lion's mane. But then, what is inevitable when it comes to Ella happened.

She thought.

Peter... Susan... Lucy... _Edmund_...

"She will come for him, won't she?" she asked quietly.

"She sees him as a traitor," said Aslan. "She will want the boy to die as tradition demands it. On the Stone Table."

Ella felt her breath get caught up in her throat. _Of course. Of course, the Witch will call upon traditions when it's most convenient to her._

"Grandpapa—"

"No, Ella. I forbid you."

She pulled back and frowned. "You just made me swear an oath, Aslan. Part of it was to promise to protect my fellow rulers, Kings, and Queens of Narnia, no matter what the cost. Even unto death. I swore. If she comes to demand this, let me take his place. I know you will offer yourself, but it's not fair—"

"They will need you to rule."

"Four will be enough," said Ella. "I know you saw them today. They learn quickly— they will learn to rule better than I would ever have alone. Aslan, please..."

And Aslan said nothing, but merely stood looking at her with his great unchanging eyes. And it seemed, then that there was nothing to be said. She _had_ made an oath.

She could not turn her back on it.

* * *

"Riding lessons? You can't be serious!" Edmund cried in shock and dismay, trying not to drop the saddle and material Ella had given him. The look she was giving him, however, made him realize she was— as she normally was— quite serious.

"You're _seriously_ asking me that? I've been serious for practically the entire time you've known me since you stepped into the boarding house," she replied as she stopped in front of the area where the horses were left to roam around freely.

Ella then inwardly smiled as she watched the boy get over his initial shock of the set of new lessons. She chuckled when she noticed the smug look on Peter's face as he too watched his brother trying not to throw a fit for having to do something he had no idea how to do.

"Relax, Edmund," said Ella. "For a first timer, you did quite well with the sword, yesterday. I'm sure you'll do just fine in these Equestrian lessons." That brought a small smile to Edmund's face. "Word of advice? Don't disrespect the horses; they're rather proud creatures."

"Why did we bring our swords if we're learning how to ride horses?" Peter asked, his arms shifting under his own given saddle.

"Because the sooner you learn how to ride, the sooner you learn how to fight while riding. And the sooner that happens, the sooner we'll be able to tone down your training and rest more."

Edmund blinked. "... that was a lot of 'sooner's," he muttered.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Alright, let's see which steed is up for the young prince."

Edmund blushed, though it quickly died down when he noticed a chestnut colored stallion cantering over. It let out a snort as it stopped before them, shaking its head. It was Philip. Ella gave him a soft look as she raised a hand to pat his head. The horse leaned into her gentle touch for a moment before turning toward Edmund.

Ella smiled. "Well, he seems to have taken a liking to you?"

"A liking to me? He's giving me the stink eye!"

"He's giving you his calculating eyes," Ella corrected. "Horses are rather good at choosing their riders." She turned to the horse. "You like him?"

"Are you seriously talking to the horse?"

Ella rolled her eyes at the boy. "Yes, I am." And she turned back to Philip. "Do you?"

He neighed.

Ella turned back to Edmund and gave him a smug look. "Told you."

"That's supposed to be a 'yes'?" She didn't reply. Edmund sighed in defeat, knowing he'd probably never win against her. Peter laughed and shoved his brother lightly on the shoulder.

"Come on; I'll show you how to put the saddle on and mount it." She looked at Peter and nodded toward the other horses. "Try to find one that..."

He frowned when she trailed off. "One that what?"

"I was going to say one you'd get along with, but I see one's already set his eyes on you."

Peter gave her a confused look, though he faltered, jumping in surprise when he felt something bump against his shoulder. He turned and found a white unicorn standing tall before him.

"Are you sure?" Ella asked quietly. The sleek white, uni-horned stallion neighed and got down on his knees. "Well, alright then. Peter, meet Silver. Silver-Moon. I found him a while back with Midnight over there," she said, nodding toward the black unicorn that was heading their way.

When Midnight had reached them, she proceeded by showing them how to put a saddle on a steed by demonstrating so on her unicorn. It took the boys a while to place theirs on their stallions, but they eventually managed. Then, they mounted and started off with a slow trot, which slowly morphed into a rhythmed canter, then finally a galloped race. The Equestrian lessons went on for about three hours. By the end, they had mastered riding their steeds rather well, so Ella decided to move on to sword battling while riding.

"Alright, draw your swords, now," said Ella. "But draw them high enough, so you don't cut the head off your horse..."

Soon, with Ella leading them, Peter and Edmund found themselves battling against each other on their steeds.

"Come on! That's right! Good! En guard! Keep your sword up!"

The boys practiced so for a long while, and, under Ella's eye, got better and better. However, around two hours later, their lessons were interrupted when Mister Beaver came running up to them. The chestnut-colored horse reared as he was taken by surprise.

Slightly panicked, Edmund tightened his hand on his horse's reins. "Whoa, horsey!"

The horse scoffed. "My name is Philip."

Edmund looked down at the horse, shocked. "Oh..."

Ella calmed her own stallion down at looked down at the Beavers with confused eyes. "Mister Beaver, what's going on?"

"Aslan asks for your presence, Your Majesty," said Mister Beaver.

"Did he say what for?"

"No, Your Majesty."

She gave him a small smile and a nod. "Alright, thank you. I will attend in just a moment." She turned to the Pevensie boys. "You've done well. Keep it up. And remember, keep your swords up." She turned back to the Beaver. "You can go back to your doings, Mister Beaver."

He bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Then they both set off, Ella going to meet Aslan, while Mister Beaver, his wife.

"Have you noticed how she smiles more?" Edmund suddenly asked.

A small smile curled its way onto Peter's lips. "Yeah, I have." He tore his gaze from the retreating figures and looked back at his brother. "Come on, let's practice a bit more."

* * *

Ella and Oreius stood in Aslan's tent with the Great lion himself. They had been trying to come up with a good plan of attack and defense for the upcoming battle for the past half hour.

"There is no need to divide a plan," Aslan cut Ella off in mid-sentence.

She frowned. "But Grandpapa, she'll be here soon. It's best we start preparing."

Aslan had been about to reply when, suddenly, a leopard came in and said, "Sire, there is a messenger from the enemy who craves an audience."

"And she's here," Ella muttered under her breath.

"Let him approach," said Aslan, as he, along with Ella and Oreius followed the leopard out of the tent. Oreius went to join the other centaurs while Aslan and Ella remained by the entrance of the tent. The leopard too went away, though soon he returned leading the Witch's dwarf.

"What is your message, Son of Earth?" asked Aslan.

"The Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Islands desires safe conduct to come and speak with you," said the dwarf, "on a matter which is as much to your advantage as to hers."

Being within earshot, Oreius scoffed. "Queen of Narnia, indeed!" said the General. "Of all the cheek—"

"Peace, Oreius," said Aslan. "All names will soon be restored to their proper owners. In the meantime, we will not dispute about them. Tell your mistress, Son of Earth, that I grant her safe conduct on condition that she leaves her wand behind her at that great oak."

This was agreed to, and two leopards went back with the dwarf to see that the conditions were properly carried out.

A few minutes later, Narnians gathered around Aslan's tent as well the Pevensies themselves. Together, they all watched with hardened eyes as the Witch herself was brought in, sitting on a bier carried by four Cyclops'. She got up, came straight across and stood before Aslan and his scion.

The three children who had not seen her before felt shudders running down their backs at the sight of her face, and there were low growls among all the animals present. Though it was bright sunshine, everyone felt suddenly cold. The only people present who seemed to be quite at their ease were Aslan, Ella and the Witch herself. It was the oddest thing to see those three faces— the golden face, the matured childish human face and the dead-white face so close together. Not that the Witch looked Aslan nor Ella exactly in their eyes; Edmund particularly noticed this.

Wordlessly, Ella walked down the step that led inside her grandfather's tent and soared forward in all her grace, stopping a few seconds in front of the Witch to glare at her before going to stand before the Pevensies, taking on a protective stance in front of them, her eyes never leaving their enemy.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan," said the Witch.

Of course everyone present knew that she meant Edmund. But Edmund had got past thinking about himself after all he'd been through, and after the talk, he'd had with Aslan, and then Ella. He just went on shifting his gaze between Aslan and Ella, who stood in front of him. It didn't seem to matter what the Witch said.

"Well," said Aslan. "His offense was not against you."

"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?" asked the Witch.

"Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch! I was there when it was written," answered Aslan gravely.

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me… His blood is my property."

Peter drew his sword, sidestepped Ella, and took five steps toward the Witch. "Try and take him then!" he all but shouted.

The Witch just looked down on him and taunted, "Do you think that a mere force can deny me my right, little King?"

Ella's glare on the Witch hardened, though she did not speak. Now was not the time just yet.

Peter's face dropped, and he lowered his sword. The Witch again spoke, but this time, turned to speak to the other Narnians as well

"Aslan knows that unless I have blood as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water. That boy—" She pointed at Edmund. "— will die on the Stone Table… as is tradition." She looked to Aslan. "You dare not refuse me."

"Would the blood of another pay the price?" a shout suddenly rang out. Peter turned to see Ella had stepped forward from where she stood before his siblings.

"And who might you be?" the Witch asked, annoyed.

"Princess Erella," said the girl, voice strong and powerful as she held her head up high. "Daughter of King Richard Thomass and Queen Radriella."

"She is the one," a wolf beside the Witch growled. "I recognize her scent. She is the one that took him."

The Witch's eyes steeled, but not for finding out she had rescued the boy. "And what is it that you said?"

"Would the blood of another pay the price for _King_ Edmund's life?"

"Ella!" Aslan roared.

Ella looked over at the lion and gave him a stubborn look. "The oath," was all she said before turning her gaze back toward the Witch.

"Are you saying that you would take the place of King Edmund?" the Witch asked, fighting back a nasty smirk.

"Yes," Ella replied, her eyes set.

"Enough," Aslan said sternly, "I shall talk to you both alone."

It was a terrible time this— waiting and wondering while the Lion, the Princess, and the Witch talked earnestly together in low voices within the red draped tent.

Lucy said, "Oh, Edmund!" and began to cry.

Peter stood with his back to the others looking out at the distant sea. The Beavers stood holding each other's paws with their heads bowed. The centaurs stamped uneasily with their hoofs. But everyone became perfectly still in the end so that you noticed even small sounds like a bumble-bee flying past, or the birds in the forest down below them, or the wind rustling the leaves. And still the talk between Aslan, Ella, and the White Witch went on.

At last, the three came out. The Witch was first to submerge from the draped house, looking like she was trying to hide her pleasure but couldn't. Aslan and Ella came out walking side by side, their faces still and unreadable. For a few moments, there was silence.

Then Aslan's voice rang clear as he said, "I have settled the matter. She has renounced her claim on the son of Adam's blood."

And all over the hill, there was a noise as if everyone had been holding their breath and had now begun breathing again, and then a murmur of talk.

The Witch was just turning away with a look of fierce joy on her face when she stopped and said, "But how do I know this promise will be kept?"

Ella's eyes glowed gold as she glared at her ferociously, while Aslan roared angrily with all his might at the Witch, his great mouth opening wider and wider and the roar grew louder and louder. The Witch quickly sat down in her chair and was soon carried away from the camp.

As soon as she had gone Aslan said, "We must move from this place at once, it will be wanted for other purposes. We shall camp tonight at the Fords of Beruna."

Of course, everyone was dying to ask him and the Princess how they had arranged matters with the witch; but Aslan's face was stern, Ella's clearly stated she would not pipe a word, and everyone's ears were still ringing with the sound of the lion's roar, and so nobody dared.


	13. Sword in the Stone

**Sword in the Stone**

After a meal, which was taken in the open air on the hill-top, they were busy for a while taking the pavilion down and packing things up. Before two o'clock, they were on the march and set off in a northeasterly direction, walking at an easy pace for they had not far to go.

During the first part of the journey, Ella took it upon herself to explain to Peter her plan of campaign.

"As soon as she's finished her business in these parts," she said, "the Witch and her crew will almost certainly fall back to her House and prepare for a siege. You may or may not be able to cut her off and prevent her from reaching it."

She then went on to outline two plans of battle— one for fighting the Witch and her people in the wood and another for assaulting her castle. And all the time she was advising Peter how to conduct the operations, saying things like, "_You_ must put _your_ Centaurs in such and such a place" or "_You_ must post scouts to see that she doesn't do so-and-so."

It went on so until, at last, Peter said, "But you and Aslan will be there yourselves."

The usual undecipherable glint appeared in her gaze as she remained silent for a long agonizing moment.

At last, she answered, "I can give you no promise of that."

One single glint flashed through her eyes, so fast Peter barely caught it, though he noticed how it seemed as though it pained her that there was one promise she could not keep. Her expression, however, remained impassive as she continued giving him her instructions.

For the last part of the journey, it was Susan and Lucy who saw most of her as Aslan had left her side and went to lead the rest of the way. Then, just when they thought Ella could not get any more mysterious than she already was, she went and handed them two of her most prized possessions; a silver ring with the sign of infinity, which she gave to Susan, and her golden lion bracelet, which she handed to the youngest Pevensie. She seemed to them to be sad, Lucy noted, but no question was answered after she gave them the items. She did not say why she had chosen to give it to them, nor did she talk very much afterward.

It was still afternoon when they came down to a place where the river valley had widened out, and the river was broad and shallow. This was the Fords of Beruna, and Aslan gave orders to halt on this side of the water.

But Peter said, "Wouldn't it be better to camp on the far side— for fear she should try a night attack or anything?"

Aslan, who seemed to have been thinking about something else, roused himself with a shake of his magnificent mane and said, "Eh? What's that?"

Peter said it all over again.

"No," said Aslan in a dull voice, as if it didn't matter. "No. She will not make an attack tonight." And then he sighed deeply, but presently he added, "All the same it was well thought of. That is how a soldier ought to think. But it doesn't really matter." So they proceeded to pitch their camp.

The mood echoing between the great lion and the princess affected everyone that evening. Peter was feeling uncomfortable too at the idea of fighting the battle on his own; the news that Aslan and Ella might not be there had come as a great shock to him. Supper that evening was a quiet meal. Everyone felt how different it had been last night or even that morning. It was as if the good times, having just begun, were already drawing to their end.

It was then that Ella surprised the Pevensies anew. She had quietly come up to them at the precise moment the General of Aslan's army, Oreius, had been conversing with the eldest Pevensie. When she called out to them, for the first time she did not call out the nickname she had given to them ever since before they met.

"Pevensies."

They quieted down and turned to look at her, frowning slightly as they took her in. She stood before them wearing a brown dress and a pair of brown worn-out riding boots, both seeming to belong to someone of lower class than herself. The only things demonstrating her high value were the black sating cloak she hung over her shoulder, along with the gold pendant she always seemed to be wearing, and her sword and shield.

Braid falling over her right shoulder to rest above her covered breast as she _bowed_ before them, she spoke in a voice that was far from cold, and yet far from optimistic or any of the sort. Her voice was full of power and determination Oreius had only ever heard when was dead set on doing something others believed her incapable of doing.

"If I may be so bold your majesties."

Had the serious and somber look not been on her face, Edmund would've laughed; if there was one thing he learned about her, as he got to know her, is that there never really is a time where she isn't bold.

The Pevensies became confused when she knelt before them on one knee and took her sword out of its sheath, laying it before them. Why would she be kneeling before them? She was of higher importance then they were, even being the future kings and queens of Narnia.

"I, Erella, by the will and word of the Great Lion King, Aslan, have been given the name as the First Warrior of Narnia. I pray you kings and queens will allow me to stand by your side when there are battles to fight, protect you when enemies mean you harm, kill those that would destroy you, and, if it comes to the end, that _I should die in the place of your life_. Please accept what I have to offer, for I can give nothing more."

Again, Ella rendered Peter speechless as she had many times before. He had no ounce of a clue of what to say. She was asking to protect them, give her life to them— why? She'd been doing that from the start.

They didn't know, however, that she was simply asking them to let her fulfill her oath. One thing was promising the Great King, but another was promising the future Kings and Queens of Narnia. By promising both, Ella knew there was no chance in the world she would think of backing down at the last minute— she was a girl who was raised to keep promises.

Before either Peter or Susan had a chance to say anything stupid, Edmund stepped forward and took Ella's sword.

"I, Edmund, King of Narnia, by the will of Aslan, accept your gift, and charge you with my life."

Peter stepped forward and put his hand on the sword Edmund held.

"I Peter, High King of Narnia by the will of Aslan, accept your gift, and charge you with my life as well."

Then Susan and Lucy came, putting their hands over their brothers, charging her with their life as well. Then, Oreius suddenly stepped forward and raised his own sword in a salute.

"And I, Oreius, General of Aslan's army, promise fealty to you."

Ella stood, sheathed her sword then bowed. "I promise to fulfill the oath I have made to you to the best of my abilities." Then she threw her cloak on and soared away from them.

"What do you think that was about?" Susan asked, eyeing Ella's retreating form with concern.

Peter shrugged. "Probably just wants to make sure we allow her to keep us safe as best she can, though I don't really know why she would ask..."

Edmund and Lucy, however, knew better than those simple guesses, and the centaur who'd known her since her earlier years knew better too.

The edging mood hadn't changed, and that feeling affected Susan so much that she couldn't get to sleep when she went to bed. And after she had lain counting sheep and turning over and over, she heard Lucy give a long sigh and turn over just beside her in the darkness.

"Can't you get to sleep either?" said Susan.

"No," said Lucy. "I thought you were asleep. I say, Susan!"

"What?"

"I've a most horrible feeling— as if something were hanging over us."

"Have you? Because, as a matter of fact, so have I."

"Something about Aslan and Ella," said Lucy. "Either some dreadful thing is going to happen to them, or something dreadful that they're going to do."

"There's been something wrong with them all afternoon," said Susan. "Aslan's been in his tent since we've arrived, and remember that promise Ella made? God, Lucy! What was that they said about not being with us at the battle? You don't think they could be stealing away and leaving us tonight, do you?"

"Where is he now?" said Lucy. "Is he here in the pavilion?"

"I don't think so."

"Susan! Let's go outside and have a look round. We might see him."

"All right. Let's," said Susan; "we might just as well be doing that as lying awake here."

Very quietly the two girls groped their way among the other sleepers and crept out of the tent. The moonlight was bright, and everything was quite still except for the noise of the river chattering over the stones.

Then Susan suddenly caught Lucy's arm and said, "Look!"

On the far side of the camping ground, just where the trees began, they saw the Lion and the Princess slowly walking away from them into the wood. Without a word, they both followed them.

The King and Princess led them up the steep slope out of the river valley and then slightly to the right— apparently by the very same route which they had used that afternoon in coming from the Hill of the Stone Table. On and on they were led, into dark shadows and out into the pale moonlight, getting their feet wet with the heavy dew. The lion looked somehow different from the Aslan they knew; his tail and his head hung low, and he walked slowly as if he were very, very tired. Ella looked almost as she had when the news of her brother's death had reached her; face dark, expression broken; her movements weren't graceful at all anymore, they were more stiff and automatic, almost like a machine. Then, when they were crossing a wide-open place where there were no shadows for them to hide in, the lion and the girl stopped and looked around. It was no good trying to run away, so the Pevensie girls came towards them.

When they were closer Aslan said, "Oh, children, children, why are you following us?"

"We couldn't sleep," said Lucy— and then felt sure that she need say no more and that Aslan knew all they had been thinking.

"Please, may we come with you— wherever you're going?" asked Susan.

"Well..." said Aslan, and seemed to be thinking.

Then Ella spoke softly, "I should be glad of company tonight."

Nodding softly in agreement, Aslan said, "Yes, you may come, if you will promise to stop when I tell you, and after that leave me to go on alone."

"Oh, thank you, thank you. And we will," said the two girls.

Forward they went again, and one of the girls walked on each side of the Lion. But how slowly he walked! And his great, royal head drooped so that his nose nearly touched the grass. Presently he stumbled and gave a low moan.

"Grandpapa," Ella mumbled. She stepped toward him, and suddenly stumbled slightly, beginning to feel faint.

"Aslan! Ella!" said Lucy, "what's wrong? Can't you tell us?"

"Are you ill?" asked Susan.

"No," said Aslan. "I am sad and lonely. Lay your hands on my mane so that I can feel you are there and let us walk like that."

And so the girls did what they would never have dared to do without his permission, but what they had longed to do ever since they first saw him buried their cold hands in the beautiful sea of fur and stroked it and, so doing while walking. After a moment, Lucy, noticing Ella almost falling behind, dared herself to reach out and grab her hand. As if being snapped out of a reverie, Ella blinked and looked down at the little girl who looked back up at her with her innocent gaze; she gave Lucy a fond look filled with gratefulness.

Soon, Susan and Lucy saw that they were going with them up the slope of the hill on which the Stone Table stood. They went up at the side where the trees came furthest up, and when they got to the last tree Aslan stopped and said,

"Oh, children, children. Here you must stop. And whatever happens, do not let yourselves be seen. Farewell."

And, though they hardly knew why, both the girls cried bitterly and clung to the Lion and kissed his mane and his nose and his paws and his great, sad eyes. Then they turned to the Princess and flung themselves onto her, hugging her tightly, practically hanging on for dear life. After a long moment, Ella pulled away and regarded them with sad eyes that mirrored those of her grandfather. She then placed a soft kiss on Susan's forehead, then one on Lucy's before turning her back to them, looking over at Aslan who gave her a nod.

With the farewells done and over with, the lion and the girl turned from them and walked out on to the top of the hill. And Lucy and Susan, crouching in the bushes, looked after them, and watched with terror-filled eyes as a nightmare came before them.

A great crowd of people was standing all around the Stone Table and though the moon was shining many of them carried torches which burned with evil-looking red flames and black smoke. But such people! Ogres with monstrous teeth, and wolves, and bull-headed men; spirits of evil trees and poisonous plants; Cruels and Hags and Incubuses, Wraiths, Horrors, Efreets, Sprites, Orknies, Wooses, and Ettins. In fact, there were all those who were on the Witch's side and whom the Wolf had summoned at her command. And right in the middle, standing by the Table, was the Witch herself.

A howl and a gibber of dismay went up from the creatures when they first saw the great Lion and the prophesied High Queen pacing towards them, and for a moment even the Witch seemed to be struck with fear. Then she recovered herself and gave a wild, fierce laugh.

Ella swallowed hard; she was not afraid of the Witch, but more of what was about to happen to her and Aslan. That made her laugh bitterly inside as she realized she never had really been afraid of death until now. Perhaps it was because it was at the hand of someone she had spent such a long time hating.

"The fools!" she cried. "The fools have come."

Lucy and Susan finally understood Ella's oath. Finally, they understood why she had knelt before them and asked for them to accept her _gift_. Susan's heart clenched as the realization came to her of what was about to happen to the great Lion and the girl who had shown herself to be the most loyal person she'd ever known. The girls held their breaths waiting for Aslan's roar and his spring upon his enemies. For the _clang_ of Ella's sword as she'd bring it out of her scabbard and swing it forward. But neither ever came. That is, until Ella stepped forward and unsheathed her blade. However, what Lucy and Susan expected never happened.

The Princess walked forward till she stood where the Witch was. She stepped toward the head of the Stone Table and looked up at the Witch, glaring at her for a moment before raising her sword with her two hands and stabbing it into the stone. A lightning bolt seemed to have emitted from the blade as she embedded it into the rock, and so again when she did the same with her shield, striking it right beside her sword. They shone for a moment, glinting underneath the moonlight and the fire blazing around before morphing till both almost look rusted, practically stone.

The weapons looked like statuettes now; almost like ancient artifacts from a museum. Ella looked just as worn, her beautiful hazelnut, green-specked eyes that once shone with hope and life had once more become nothing but a dull shade of dark brown and were simply... empty. Her face had become pale anew, and her cheekbones were looking more angular as her cheek-fat almost sunk into the bone.

Glaring up at the Witch once more, Ella stepped back, almost stumbling as she made her way back to Aslan's side. She instantly buried a hand into his soft mane, hugging her cloak closer around herself.

Gazing at the girl with suspicion, the Witch stepped toward the weapons stabbed into the stone. She looked at it for merely a few seconds before reaching a hand forward toward the sword. Wrapping a white hand around its hilt, she pulled, but nothing happened— the sword did not budge. The same happened with the shield, and that enraged her; she glanced furiously at Ella and bellowed,

"Bind them fast."

Four Hags, grinning and leering, yet also hanging back and half afraid of what they had to do, had approached the Lion and the Princess.

"Bind them, I say!" repeated the White Witch.

The Hags made a dart at them and shrieked with triumph when they found that neither made any resistance at all. Then others— evil dwarfs and apes— rushed in to help them, and between them, they rolled the huge Lion over on his back and tied all his four paws together. Ella, they grabbed her roughly and tied each of her limbs separately. They mocked them through shouts and cheers as if they had done something brave, though, had the Lion chose, one of those paws could have been the death of them all. Ella, with just one hit in the neck, could've killed one of them, and done so for the rest as well.

But they made no noise, even when the enemies, straining and tugging, pulled the cords so tight that they cut into their flesh. Then they began to drag them towards the Stone Table.

"Stop!" said the Witch. "Let him first be shaved."

Another roar of mean laughter went up from her followers as an ogre with a pair of shears came forward and squatted down by Aslan's head. Snip-snip-snip went the shears and masses of curling gold began to fall to the ground. Then the ogre stood back and the children, watching from their hiding-place, could see the face of Aslan looking all small and different without its mane. The enemies also saw the difference.

"Why, he's only a great cat after all!" cried one.

"Is that what we were afraid of?" said another.

And they surged round Aslan, jeering at him, saying things like "Puss, Puss! Poor Pussy," and "How many mice have you caught today, Cat?" and "Would you like a saucer of milk, Pussums?"

"Oh, how can they?" said Lucy, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The brutes, the brutes!" for now that the first shock was over the shorn face of Aslan looked to her braver, and more beautiful, and more patient than ever.

Ella wanted to cry. Never had she seen Aslan in such a vulnerable state. Unfortunately, she was in no better situation. She couldn't remember much of what was done to her, but she remembered how quickly she felt cold. Her cloak and boots were gone, and her tight black trousers and brown dress felt suddenly breezy in different areas— they'd been cut. Her hair no longer felt as heavy as it had grown, nor in the long braid she had made earlier, but for her hair, she did not care one bit. What were they doing to her? And Aslan? She couldn't see him anymore as her vision had begun to blur and she began to feel lightheaded.

"Muzzle them!" said the Witch.

And even now, as they worked about Aslan's face putting on the muzzle, one bite from his jaws would have cost two or three of them their hands. But he never moved. Ella's eyes were closed when they brought the object meant for animals and placed it over her mouth. And this seemed to enrage all that rabble. Everyone was at them now. Those who had been afraid to come near them even after they were bound began to find their courage, and for a few minutes the two girls could not even see Aslan or Ella— so thickly were they surrounded by the whole crowd of creatures kicking them, hitting them, spitting on them, jeering at them.

At last, the rabble had had enough of this. They began to drag the bound and muzzled Lion and Princess to the Stone Table, some pulling and some pushing. The Lion was so huge that even when they got him there, it took all their efforts to hoist him on to the surface of it. Ella was so thin they practically threw her onto it like a rag-doll. Then there was more tying and tightening of cords.

"The cowards! The cowards!" sobbed Susan. "Are they still afraid of him, even now?"

When once the Lion and his scion had been tied on the flat stone, a hush fell on the crowd. Four Hags, holding four torches, stood at the corners of the Table. The Witch bared her arms as she had bared them the previous night when it had been Edmund instead of Aslan and Ella. Then she began to whet her two knives— one for the King and one for the Princess. It looked to the children when the gleam of the torchlight fell on them as if the knives were made of stone, not of steel, and it was of a strange and evil shape.

At last, she drew near. She stood by their heads. Her face was working and twitching with passion, but Aslan's looked up at the sky, still quiet, neither angry nor afraid, but a little sad, while Ella's stared blankly at nothing, a mere tear escaping her right eye. Then, just before the Witch gave the blows, she stooped down and said in a quivering voice,

"And now, who has won? Fools, did you think that by all this you would save the human traitor? Now I will kill you both instead of him as our pact was and so the Deep Magic will be _more_ than appeased. But when you are dead, what will prevent me from killing him as well? And who will take him out of my hand then? Understand that you have given me Narnia forever, you have lost your own lives and you have not saved his. In that knowledge, despair and die."

The children did not see the actual moment of the killing. They couldn't bear to look and had covered their eyes.

While the two girls still crouched in the bushes with their hands over their faces, they heard the voice of the Witch calling out,

"Now! Follow me all and we will set about what remains of this war! It will not take us long to crush the human vermin and the traitors now that the great Fools, the great Cat and little Princess, lie dead."

At this moment the children were for a few seconds in very great danger. For the whole of that vile rabble came sweeping off the hill-top and down the slope right past their hiding-place. They felt the Spectres go by them like a cold wind and they felt the ground shake beneath them under the galloping feet of the Minotaurs; and overhead there went a flurry of foul wings and a blackness of vultures and giant bats. At any other time they would have trembled with fear; but now the sadness and shame and horror of Aslan and Ella's death so filled their minds that they hardly thought of it.

As soon as the wood was silent again, Susan and Lucy crept out onto the open hill-top. The moon was getting low and thin clouds were passing across her, but still, they could see the shape of the Lion and his scion lying dead in their bonds. And down they both knelt in the wet grass, and Susan kissed his cold face and stroked his beautiful fur— what was left of it— and cried till they could cry no more, while Lucy sobbed as much, grabbing hold of one of Ella's limp, cold hands, holding it preciously in her own. And then they looked at each other and held each other's hands for mere loneliness and cried again; and then again were silent.

At last Lucy said, "I can't bear to look at those horrible muzzles. I wonder could we take them off?"

So they tried. And after a lot of working at it as their fingers were cold and it was now the darkest part of the night, they succeeded. And when they saw Aslan and Ella's faces without them, they burst out crying again and kissed them and fondled them and wiped away the blood and the foam as well as they could.

And it was all more lonely and hopeless and horrid.

"I wonder could we untie them as well?" mumbled Susan. But the enemies, out of pure spitefulness, had drawn the cords so tight that the girls could make nothing of the knots.

Everyone knows that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. A sort that makes one feel as if nothing was ever going to happen again. At any rate that was how it felt to these two Pevensie girls. Hours and hours seemed to go by in this dead calm, and they hardly noticed that they were getting colder and colder.

But at last Lucy noticed two other things.

One was that the sky on the east side of the hill was a little less dark than it had been an hour ago. The other was some tiny movement going on in the grass at her feet. At first, she took no interest in this. What did it matter? Nothing mattered now! But at last, she saw that whatever-it-was had begun to move up the upright stones of the Stone Table. And now whatever-they-were were moving about on two dead bodies. She peered closer. They were little gray things.

"Ugh!" said Susan from the other side of the Table. "How beastly! Get away! Get away, all of you!" And she raised her hand to frighten them away.

"Wait!" said Lucy, who had been looking at them more closely still. "Look!"

Both girls bent down and stared.

Susan's eyes widened in realization. "Are they nibbling away at the cords?"

"That's what I thought," said Lucy. "I think they're friendly mice. Poor little things— they don't realize they're dead. They think it'll do some good untying them."

It was quite definitely lighter by now. Each of the girls noticed for the first time the white face of the other. They could see the mice nibbling away; dozens and dozens, even hundreds, of little field mice. And at last, one by one, the ropes were all gnawed through.

The sky in the east was whitish by now and the stars were getting fainter— all except one very big one low down on the eastern horizon. They felt colder than they had been all night. The mice crept away again.

The girls cleared away the remains of the gnawed ropes. The royals looked more like themselves without them. Every moment their dead faces looked nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better.

In the wood behind them, a bird gave a chuckling sound. It had been so still for hours and hours that it startled them. Then another bird answered it. Soon there were birds singing all over the place.

It was quite definitely early morning now, not late night.

"I'm so cold," said Lucy.

"So am I," said Susan with a small frown. She glanced around and bent down when she noticed the familiar black silk cloak laying about. She snatched it from the ground and gently placed it over the dead Princess' body. Why she did it, she did not know, but she didn't recoil either way.

Stepping away from Ella and Aslan, she made her way toward Lucy and opened her arms. "Let's walk about a bit."

* * *

Peter writhed, asleep, bound up in his sheets. Suddenly, he awoke with a start, being shaken awake by Edmund.

"Peter, get up!"

Peter's eyes opened just as a warning bell rang frantically outside.

The sleepy boy furrowed his brows. "What?"

"The Witch's army's coming!"

Peter shot up more awake and reached shakily for his sword. "Get Susan and Lucy, and meet me in Aslan's tent."

* * *

Lucy and Susan walked to the eastern edge of the hill and looked down. The one big star had almost disappeared. The country all looked dark gray, but beyond, at the very end of the world, the sea showed pale. The sky began to turn red. They walked to ends for more times than they could count between the dead royals and the eastern ridge, trying to keep warm; and oh, how tired their legs felt.

Then at last, as they stood for a moment looking out towards they sea and Cair Paravel the red turned to gold along the line where the sea and the sky met and very slowly up came the edge of the sun. At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise— a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant's plate.

"What's that?" said Lucy, clutching Susan's arm.

"I— I feel afraid to turn round," said Susan; "something awful is happening."

"They're doing something worse to _them_," said Lucy. "Come on!" And she turned, pulling Susan round with her.

* * *

Peter rushed to Aslan's tent, but found the flap hanging open. Cautiously, he walked inside.

Soon, Edmund came rushing in, a little breathless. "The girls are gone."

Peter nodded absentmindedly, and motioned around the empty tent. "Maybe they're with Aslan."

"And Ella?"

Peter frowned, but nodded again. "She stayed with him last night."

Suddenly, outside, armor clanked loudly as the army girded for war. Peter sighed in defeat. He had paid his full attention to Ella's words as much as he had her beautiful, sad face, but now it was as though everything just slipped from his mind. He remembered what he was meant to do, but his thoughts were regressing on him, and he just felt hopeless, and Aslan and Ella were not there to lecture him otherwise with their wise words.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

Edmund's brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at his brother. "What do you mean _we_?" Peter looked at him, worried. "Aslan and Ella wanted _you_ to take over."

Peter swallowed hard and shook his head. "You're all crazy."

Edmund sighed. "Susan and Lucy thought you could do it. And Ella, though we know she won't just outright blurt out a compliment at anyone, she gave every precise instruction to you. That means she trusts you could do it— she believes in you. And you're sure a better choice than me anyway."

Peter cracked a smile. "Well, you're right, there."

Edmund gave a small smile back before standing, straightening his sword. "There's an army out there ready to follow you." He fixed his big brother with a look. "And so am I."

Peter stared at Edmund for a moment, then moved. "The girls—"

"Wherever they are, we can't help them if we lose this battle."

Peter knew not what to reply then, though before he could even start thinking of what, he found himself walking out of the tent. He hesitated once more once he stood out in the open. Ella nor Aslan were there to guide him now, but Edmund was there to fight by his side, and so were the rest of the Narnians.  
He looked at Oreius, expression undecipherable. "Gather your troops and strike camp. We march within the hour!"

Oreius looked past Peter into the tent. "Sir?"

Peter's face hardened. "We're better off meeting them in the open," he commanded.

"Yes, sir." Oreius nodded respectfully. Peter nodded back, kingly, before the centaur wheeled away.

Then Edmund nudged his brother, whispering lowly. "You're missing something." Peter looked down to see...

He was wearing just one shoe.

* * *

The rising of the sun had made everything look so different— all colors and shadows were changed that for a moment they didn't see the important thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan nor Ella.

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried the two girls, rushing back to the Table.

"Oh, it's too bad," sobbed Lucy. "They might have left the bodies alone."

"Who's done it?" cried Susan. "What does it mean? Is it magic?"

"Yes!" said a great voice behind their backs. "It is more magic." They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.

"Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.

"Aren't you dead then, dear Aslan?" said Lucy.

"Not now," said Aslan.

"You're not— not a—" asked Susan in a shaky voice. She couldn't bring herself to say the word ghost.

Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.

"Do I look it?" he said.

"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" cried Lucy, and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses.

"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.

"It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know: Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards. And now—"

"Oh yes. Now?" said Lucy, jumping up and clapping her hands.

"Oh, children," said the Lion, "I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!"

He stood for a second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, though she didn't know why, Lucy scrambled over it to reach him. Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hill-top he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten, Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun, the girls no longer felt in the least tired or hungry or thirsty.

"Well, that was quite a show," a familiar voice echoed throughout the clearing, making everyone stop. "Didn't know you had it in you, Grandpapa."

A deep chuckle rumbled in the Lion's chest, while the girls simultaneously closed their eyes to savor the sound of the sweet voice. It had that usual softness to it, however, with an edge of authoritative strength in it. With an edge of pride, beauty, as well as an unintentional seductiveness, it soared through the air like a nightingale singing its nightly rose symphonies.

The girls opened their eyes and looked at each other, twin grins spreading across their faces.

"Ella!"

And they both shot to their feet, with a newfound energy, rushing toward the Princess, practically throwing themselves onto her. She laughed. Oh, that joyful musical sound! It was like listening to a chorus of bells.

"Oh, Ella! We saw you—"

"And we thought—"

"And you're not— are you—"

Ella gazed down at them with a fond smile and raised her hand to stop them from talking. "You heard Aslan. There is a magic deeper she did not know of; I was afraid of what awaited us at her hands, but I knew the odds would be in our favor."

Lucy and Susan looked at her for a moment, before letting out a synced cry of joy, embracing the older girl once more. After holding onto each other for a long moment, Ella finally pulled away and turned to the head of the Table where her she had struck her sword and shield hours before. Quietly, she soared over to them and stood before them, hesitating for a moment.

_"B-but you're a princess, you have to! You have to be crowned a Queen..."_

She ran her tongue over her slightly chapped lips, staring at the sword struck into the stone with hard eyes.

_"I'm not a princess, but I know that, to be one, you don't have to always do your best and be perfect. To be a great royal, you must, first and foremost, be noble, selfless, trusting and faithful, humble, kind, respectable and admirable. And, Ella, you are all of the above and more. A princess is a princess regardless of her attire. Or her circumstances, and, you, Princess Ella, are a princess. A great one." And one day, at Cair Paravel of the five thrones, you will sit as Queen. High Queen, and you will be incredible."_

She took a deep breath, slowly raising her hand to wrap it around the hilt of the stone sword.

_"Sometimes it is difficult to see the better parts of ourselves because we inevitably are focused on the parts we want to change. Just try every once in a while to see what they see too and stop being so hard on yourself."_

She closed her eyes, and stood there for a moment, hand on sword, mind and body relaxing, though she was trembling now, and her hands were beginning to glow gold― the strands of her hair, her legs, the nails on her fingers, her wrecked dress. Everything gold.

_"You could have chosen so many others who are stronger than I. Quicker, smarter— you could have chosen anyone better than me." She paused. "Yet you chose me. Why? Is it simply because I am your granddaughter?"_

_Aslan was silent for a moment, but not because he was thinking about what to say. "When I choose someone, I never make a mistake; it has nothing to do with your relation to me. I chose you not for your strength or speed, but for your heart."_

_"I am a broken girl, Aslan. My heart and soul have been torn to pieces long ago," said Ella, finally willing herself to cry for the first time in a long time._

_"Which is why you must let me mend it,_ Henig_," **(My child)** said Aslan. "Your heart has so much good in it, but you are right, it is broken. And so it your soul. They are hurt. They are weak. But to be well again, you must let me mend them."_

Suddenly, a strong whip of energy shot in through her hand, before flowing up her arm, then through her entire body. Everything seemed to radiate gold. The very air surrounding her seemed to get sucked in like a black hole.

_Ella fell to her knees before her grandfather, the Great Lion._

_"Then mend it. Mend it all," she whispered._

Her eyes then snapped open, and her naturally hazel nut, green-specked eyes shone a beautiful gold, brighter than it had done the previous night. It glowed gold like the rest of herself.

_"Rise,_ _Erella the Lionheart—" And she shed a tear; her father was called so. "— the First Warrior, and soon First **High** Queen of Narnia!"_

With a loud battle cry, followed by a loud _Crack!_, she tore the sword and the shield out of the stone and the light engulfing her figure became flash blinding to the point where those who were watching had to look away. For a moment, it was hard to see until the glow finally began to diminish, leaving a tall feminine figure in its place. Lucy and Susan looked back and watched in awe as the glow vanished completely, revealing the Princess of Narnia standing there in all her glory, looking like the true warrior she was.

Tall and proud, like a Lion, Ella stood at the other end of the cracked Table. Her russet skin was slightly paler than what the Pevensies had gotten used to, but it was clearly healthy— the many nights spent without sleep appeared no more under her eyes— and her dark brown hair had regained its once lighter tint and shine and had somehow grown back quickly— magic, the Pevensie girls suspected— and was pulled back and intertwined in a large braid that fell to the side and rested on her right shoulder. Her eyes they had noticed to be more brown than hazel before Narnia now shone beautifully in their hazel nut hue flecked with green and gold specks and held a great weight of strength and wisdom beyond her years.

Her cuts and bruises had mended and practically disappeared, those that weren't on her face being completely hidden underneath the all black uniform she was now wearing, which composed of a pair of tight black leather trousers that ran down her long legs like a bark down a tree truck. The whole attire hugged every inch of her body perfectly and showed off all of her perfect feminine curves, the only skin showing apart from her face and a bit of her neck being thus of right little finger, which was revealed only due to her archer's glove. All was, though slightly, clearly visible from under her black silk cloak that hung loosely on her body.

The girl shone with an inexplicable brilliance that amazed herself, and though her only frowning thought was stuck on her golden pendant that was missing, she smiled at the new surge of power and confidence that soared through her veins. By the life that flowed lively and healthily throughout her entire body.

"I believe it's time to get down to business," said Ella in a slightly breathless tone as she sheathed her sword and strapped her shield to her back. "Don't you, Grandpapa?"

The Lion's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Indeed it is. You had better put your fingers in your ears."

And they did. And Aslan stood up and when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind.

Not a long moment later, a faint sound of hooves was heard cantering their way. Ella sighed and smiled warmly at the familiar sound, her eyes twinkling brighter when she caught sight of the familiar black, uni-horned stallion trotting toward her. Above him was the tiny familiar vertebrate soaring through the air with many others that looked like him, carrying a black barbute that had for face protection a silver helm.

She let out a small laugh and shook her head as the bunch of nightingales dropped it in her outstretched hands while the one she recognized to be the one whom led her back to Narnia twirled around her before pecking her cheek.

"Why you little sneak," she mumbled fondly as the bird rested on her gloved finger. She gave his tiny head a gentle kiss before lifting her hand so he would join his friends. "Thank you," she said gratefully, bowing her head slightly in respect.

The birds all twirled around her, singing a beautiful little symphony before flying off. Then, Midnight stepped toward his rider, bumping his muzzle against her shoulder. She chuckled and turned to press a soft kiss upon it.

"I missed you too," she said softly. She walked to his side and chuckled again softly when she noticed her stallion had been prepared for the battle, her bow and arrows strapped to his saddle along with a bag where she knew her helmet would fit perfectly. She placed it in it, mounted the unicorn, then grabbed a firm hold of his reins, turning him slightly toward Aslan and the girls.

"Aslan?"

He nodded and said, "We have a long journey to go." He then turned his large head toward the Pevensie girls. "You must ride on me."

And he crouched down and the children climbed on to his warm, golden back, and Susan sat first, holding on tightly to his mane. Lucy stepped forward to climb on next, but recoiled for a moment when she noticed something shining faintly on the ground beside the cracked Table. She rushed over to it and smiled when she recognized it to be the pendant Ella always wore. It was now chain less and a bit wrecked, but it had survived all the same. Lucy snatched it quickly from the ground and put it in the small leather pouch attached to her belt, opposite to her cordial, before running back to Aslan and her sister. She quickly mounted the Lion, settling behind, holding on tightly to Susan.

And with a great heave, he rose underneath them and then shot off down hill and into the thick of the forest, Ella riding Midnight, just as fast, right by his side.

It was nearly midday when they found themselves looking down a steep hillside at a castle— a little toy castle it looked from where they stood— which seemed to be all pointed towers. But the Lion and the unicorn were rushing down at such a speed that it grew larger every moment and before they had time even to ask themselves what it was they were already on a level with it. And now it no longer looked like a toy castle but rose frowning in front of them. No face looked over the battlements and the gates were fast shut. And Aslan, not at all slacking his pace, rushed straight as a bullet towards it, Midnight practically soaring behind him.

"The Witch's home!" cried out Aslan.

Ella glared up at the castle, lips pursed. With a small huff, she turned to look at Aslan. "Shall we?"

A low growl came from deep within the Lion's throat as he too glared up at the castle. "Of course." He crouched slightly, his rear lifting up slightly as he positioned himself to pounce, Midnight reflecting his movements. "Now, children, hold tight."

The Lion then gathered himself together for a greater leap than any he had yet made and jumped right over the castle wall. The two girls, breathless but unhurt, found themselves tumbling off his back in the middle of a wide stone courtyard as Midnight landed a few feet behind them, Ella immediately sliding off his back once his hooves had touched the ground.

Eyes narrowed slightly, Ella glanced around the courtyard full of statues and clenched her jaw.

"Aslan? I believe it's time to pull the sword out of the Stone."

Indeed it was.


	14. The Triumph

**The Triumph**

Peter gripped his unicorn's reins tightly as he rode past hundreds of marching Narnian troops. In the middle of the long line, Edmund rode alone. After a moment, Oreius fell alongside, receiving a greeting nod from the youngest future king of Narnia. The centaur nodded back, then stared straight ahead.

"Your brother wants you to oversee the archers and hold the high ground."

Edmund looked up, surprised.

Still marching, the centaur continued with a stone-face, "He has great faith in you. I questioned it." Finally, Oreius turned to the boy. "He convinced me."

Edmund swallowed hard as the centaur stared down at him. "How?"

The centaur fought back a smile. "He reminded me that you were trained by the same person I had once had the honor to have as my apprentice." He then gave him a military salute and trotted ahead.

Edmund stared at his retreating form for a moment, then looked away, smiling to himself as he understood who Oreius had been referring to.

Down the hill, many Narnians up front, Peter looked calm, but, really, he felt like he was going to be sick. Glancing up at the sky, he saw the leader of the griffins swoop down towards him. The Griffin landed beside him, and began to speak in a very quick voice,

"They come, your highness, in numbers and weapons far greater than our own."

"Numbers do not win a battle," said Oreius, from where he stood on Peter's left.

"No," said Peter. "But I bet they help."

He looked over the plain and clenched his jaw as the sound of a trumpet echoed across the battlefield, announcing the approaching of the White Witch's army, which was composed of a seething mass of evil creatures. Squadrons of Cyclops, battalions of black dwarfs; General Otmin led a phalanx of Minotaurs. Finally, twin polar bears pulled a gleaming chariot. At the reins stood Ginarrbrick, and towering above him, magnificent in her battle mail and flowing robes...

The Witch.

Peter looked to the Eagle. "Did she offer terms different than the obvious ones?" he asked with a slightly sarcastic edge.

As the opposing army came up closer and closer, he finally saw the Witch more clearly; the nasty smirk plastered on her cold white face, her eyes squinted in a mocking manner... and it looked as if she had a mane around her.

The soon-to-be High King glared in fury when he realized just whom it belonged to. He then looked behind his shoulder at his brother Edmund. The younger Pevensie boy nodded at him, and Peter turned back around, pulled his reins up slightly, motioning Silver to go forward. Hiding his nerves as best as he could, he rode calmly in front of his troops.

"Soldiers of Aslan! Today, we face a grave battle... and likely a costly one."

Oreius nodded grimly.

"It may not have to be that way... the Witch has offered a deal." Some of the soldiers murmured amongst each other. "She will withdraw and you may return to your homes... if Edmund and I surrender ourselves to her."

Several bears growled, and Peter raised his hand to quiet them.

"If you wish it, we will go." A faun scowled, shaking his head. "If you do not, we would consider it the greatest honor to stay and fight by your side."

The crowd exploded in a fierce cheer, banging their swords against their shields.

"I think you have your answer," said Oreius.

Peter searched the hill behind him. He found Edmund, standing with Beaver. Edmund nodded once again, supportive. Peter then lifted his sword, accepting their allegiance.

Across the field, the Witch smiled thinly. Beside her, Ginarrbrick pulled on his helmet.

The Witch then turned to her General with a scowl. "I'm not interested in prisoners. Eradicate them."

Otmin roared. Then, with a thunder of hooves and steel, the Witch's army charges.

Peter waited, sword held high.

The dark army approached in a cloud of dust.

Finally, Peter swallowed hard, then sliced his sword through the air. Eagles, Falcons, griffins, and hawks took flight, large stones gripped in their talons. The grounded Narnians watched the many vertebrates drop their rocks, cracking the skulls of the evil army, breaking their formation. Still, however, they advanced.

Peter then raised his sword in the air anew and cried out, "For Narnia! For Aslan! And for Ella!"

He then pointed his blade forward toward the enemy army and shouted, "CHARGE!"

Silver Moon, the pure white unicorn the soon-to-be High King rode, reared up, neighing ferociously into the clear air. Peter then urged the unicorn and they galloped at full speed, leading a wedge of centaurs against the now disorganized black army.

_CRASH_.

Talons, claws, swords, and lances collided, creatures on both sides falling as the Battle of Beruna began.

* * *

"What an extraordinary place!" cried Lucy. "All those stone animals— and people too! It's— it's like a museum."

"Hush," said Susan, "Aslan's doing something."

He was indeed. He had bounded up to the stone lion and breathed on him. Then without waiting a moment he whisked round— almost as if he had been a cat chasing its tail— and breathed also on the stone dwarf, which was standing a few feet from the lion with his back to it. Then he pounced on a tall stone dryad which stood beyond the dwarf, turned rapidly aside to deal with a stone rabbit on his right, and rushed on to two centaurs.

But at that moment Lucy said, "Oh, Susan! Look! Look at the lion."

There was newspaper propped up in a grate against an unlit fire. Then, for a second, nothing seemed to have happened. However, a tiny streak of flame soon found itself creeping along the edge of the newspaper.

You know when someone puts a lighted match to a bit of newspaper? It was like that now.

For a second, after Aslan had breathed upon him, the stone lion looked just the same. Then a tiny streak of gold began to run along his white marble back then it spread— then the color seemed to lick all over him as the flame licks all over a bit of paper— then, while his hindquarters were still obviously stone, the lion shook his mane and all the heavy, stone folds rippled into living hair. Then he opened a great red mouth, warm and living, and gave a prodigious yawn. And now his hind legs had come to life. He lifted one of them and scratched himself. Then, having caught sight of Aslan, he went bounding after him and frisking round him whimpering with delight and jumping up to lick his face.

Of course, the children's eyes turned to follow the lion; but the sight they saw was so wonderful that they soon forgot about him. Everywhere the statues were slowly coming to life.

Slightly impatient, Ella stepped toward the Great King and unsheathe her sword. She turned and looked up at him. "May I?" she asked softly, motioning her sword ahead of them.

The Great Lion looked at her and nodded his giant head. "You may."

And she stepped forward, closed her eyes and swung her sword in the air. After three swings, her eyes snapped open glowing gold, then, like at the Stone Table, she stepped forward and raised her sword with one hand and stabbed it into the icy ground. Like the previous night, a lightning bolt emitted from the blade as she embedded it into the ground. Like before, the blade along with its owner began to glow gold, and the glow traveled through the icy surface and past and through every statue, and for a moment, the Pevensie girls had to cover their eyes as the glow became a flash-blinding light.

When it died down, they uncovered their eyes and realized what Ella had done. She had used whatever magic she had and sped up the process of bringing all of these creatures back to life. She was impatient, though it was understandable; a war was going on a few terrains away.

Susan and Lucy glanced around, awe clear in their eyes.

The courtyard looked no longer like a museum; it looked more like a zoo. Instead of all that deadly white the courtyard was now a blaze of colors; glossy chestnut sides of centaurs, indigo horns of unicorns, dazzling plumage of birds, reddy-brown of foxes, dogs and satyrs, yellow stockings and crimson hoods of dwarfs; and the birch-girls in silver, and the beech-girls in fresh, transparent green, and the larch-girls in green so bright that it was almost yellow. And instead of the deadly silence, the whole place rang with the sound of happy roarings, brayings, yelpings, barkings, squealings, cooings, neighings, stampings, shouts, hurrahs, songs, and laughter.

"Oh!" said Susan in a different tone. "Look! I wonder— I mean, is it safe?"

Lucy looked and saw that Aslan had just breathed on the feet of the stone giant.

"It's all right!" shouted Aslan joyously. "Once the feet are put right, all the rest of him will follow."

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," whispered Susan to Lucy.

But it was too late to do anything about it now even if Aslan would have listened to her. The change was already creeping up the Giant's legs. Now he was moving his feet. A moment later he lifted his club off his shoulder, rubbed his eyes and said,

"Bless me! I must have been asleep. Now! Where's that dratted little Witch that was running about on the ground? Somewhere just by my feet, it was."

But when everyone had shouted up to him to explain what had really happened, and when the Giant had put his hand to his ear and got them to repeat it all again so that at last he understood, then he bowed down till his head was no further off than the top of a haystack and touched his cap repeatedly to Aslan, beaming all over his honest ugly face.

"Now for the inside of this house!" said Aslan. "Look alive, everyone. Upstairs and downstairs and in the Witch's chamber! Leave no corner unsearched. You never know where some poor prisoner may be concealed."

And into the interior, they all rushed and for several minutes the whole of that dark, horrible, fusty old castle echoed with the opening of windows and with everyone's voices crying out at once, "Don't forget the dungeons— Give us a hand with this door! Here's another little winding stair— Oh! I say. Here's a poor kangaroo. Call Aslan— Phew! How it smells in here— Look out for trap-doors— Up here! There are a whole lot more on the landing!"

But the best of all was when Lucy came rushing upstairs shouting out, "Aslan! Aslan! I've found Mister Tumnus. Oh, do come quick."

A moment later Lucy and the little Faun were holding each other by both hands and dancing round and round for joy. The little chap was none the worse for having been a statue and was of course very interested in all she had to tell him. But at last, the ransacking of the Witch's fortress was ended. The whole castle stood empty with every door and window open and the light and the sweet spring air flooding into all the dark and evil places which needed them so badly. The whole crowd of liberated statues surged back into the courtyard.

"We must go as soon as possible." Though Ella spoke quietly, her voice resonated loud and clear throughout the icy walls of the castle. "The battle is not over— the others need our help."

Hearing what she said, Susan nodded in agreement. "We sent the word that you were dead. They need to know you're not... they need to know we can help."

Ella looked at Aslan for a moment, then turned to the newly recovered Narnians.

"My dear friends, I know you have gone through enough hardship, and believe me when I tell you I wouldn't be asking this had the circumstances been otherwise, but... Right now, all of our fellows Narnians who had managed to survive the Witch's wrath are out there fighting alongside the future kings of Narnia with only two goals: avenge all the losses caused by her and claim back our land."

"But they won't win if they don't get any more help; not all of them are trained warriors," Susan chimed in.

Lucy then stepped forward, one hand latching on to her sister's while the other grabbed on to Ella's.

"Will you help us help them?" asked the little girl.

It was silent for a moment, only a few murmurs heard amongst the creatures as they discussed what they would do.

"I am forever in your debts, Your Majesties. It would be an honor and a privilege to fight on your side," Mister Tumnus was first to speak, though the sudden confidence quickly drained from his whole being when a pair of piercing hazelnut eyes glanced his way. "I-if you'll have me," the Faun stuttered.

Ella beamed at him. "Of course, Mister Tumnus," she said softly.

Then, one by one, the other creatures began to step up and offer their arm in combat, and Ella couldn't help but smile at her people with pride.

Her smile never faltering, Ella brought her sword up, then sliced it through the air as she cried out, "For Narnia!"

A roar of cheers surrounded her, and, soon, Ella, Aslan, Susan, Lucy and the rescued Narnians were racing toward the plains of Beruna.

* * *

After the Witch's first wave of troops had thinned the ranks of Aslan's army, the Witch sent the second wave of her attack. To keep his forces from being crushed in the open, Peter ordered a retreat to a fall-back point in the rocks where his archers were stationed.

During the retreat, the unicorn that Peter was mounted on was shot out from under him, and he lay stunned for several moments.

Seeing that their future king was extremely vulnerable with the enemy closing in, Oreius and a rhinoceros charged into the ranks of the Witch's army to buy Peter some time to recover and retreat with the rest of his army.

Shortly into the charge, the rhinoceros was cut down by ankle slicers, while Oreius continued on in the direction of the Witch, killing Otmin along the way. When Oreius made it to the Witch, they dueled briefly before he was turned to stone.

As the battle wore on, it became clear to Peter that the fight was lost.

"Edmund, there's too many! Get out of here! Get the girls, and get them home!"

Edmund initially obeyed his brother, but when he saw the witch zeroing in on Peter, he changed course and engaged her.

* * *

Halting mid-run, the black stallion ridden by the princess back up a little and started whinnying in seemed like agony. Ella's eyes widened and she quickly tightened her grasp on Midnight's reins as he shifted his weight strongly to his hindquarters and, with a balanced rear, let out the strongest, agonized neigh she had ever heard a stallion, of any sort, emit. It was strong, loud and powerful, yet full of so much pain, and Ella quickly understood what he was going in about.

Quickly, she leaned forward, bringing the stallion back to the ground before tugging on his reins as a signal to turn hurry, and Midnight no other second.

She knew he was pushing himself as best as he could, but she could not help but wish he'd go faster as soon as her eyes, enhanced with the sight of the elleth part she possessed within her, caught sight of the centaur who had once been her mentor, now turned into stone. Her black pupils almost dilated fully over her hazelnut irises when her eyes zeroed in on the youngest prince who quickly falling at the mercy of the Witch after having tried to protect his older brother.

Impatient to get there, Ella urged her stallion to go faster.

"Midnight, when I tell you, give me a boost, alright?"

The unicorn neighed.

She steadily stood on Midnight's saddle, the shouted, "Up!"

And the horse's rear rose abruptly, sending Ella flying forward, flipping and twirling in the air, landing exactly where she had hoped she would, though not exactly at the moment she'd been hoping.

* * *

Although Edmund's first attack missed Jadis's wand, he was quickly able to shatter it with his sword. Jadis, however, being the better warrior, quickly recovered, and stabbed was quick to aim for Edmund with every intention of mortally wounding him, even if she did it with her broken wand.

However, neither of them expected another body to drop down out of nowhere, right in between them, and take the mortal blow herself.

When the realization hit Edmund as to whom had just, in other words, taken the bullet for him, horror began to suffocate him as he fell to the ground.

"No!" The boy's shout was so full of agony, instantly catching the attention of his older brother who was a few duels away.

Stabbing away a stubborn harpy that just seemed to not want to die, Peter quickly glanced in the direction of his brother's shout and instantly felt his heart drop at the sight that greeted him.

Few yards away, stood Eleanor Kirke, the girl who hated being called Eleanor and insisted on being called Ella. The girl who had turned out to be the princess and future High Queen of a land he never thought possible to exist. The girl who had sworn an oath that, come what may, she would always push forward no matter what tried to keep her back and would do anything to keep them safe, even if that meant taking a bullet for them... Or a broken wand in this case. Even if that meant having to die.

There stood Ella, in all her glory of survival, and yet agony at the possibly mortal wound— the girl Peter now realized he had feelings for. Feelings he hadn't understood for almost an entire month until now as he felt the relief of seeing her there, alive, but with an immense fear at the thought of probably losing her over a stupid, broken magic stick.

The Witch instantly covered her shock with a sneer. "You rise... only to fall again," she taunted, a smirk growing on her face. "_That_ is your destiny. You can call this land yours all you want, but, just like your father, you will _never_ be fit to rule it."

Ella said nothing, but returned the icy glare given to her. However, before the young blond prince could even react or even think how to, the girl whose life he feared for suddenly reminded him why he felt for her the way he did when she unexpectedly threw her head back for a split second before throwing it forward, letting it collide with the Witch's.

"And what— _you_'re meant to rule Narnia? Please, don't make me laugh." Ella growled as she unsheathe her sword. "I may not be the best thing that's ever happened to this land, but what have _you _ever done to even be considered a good ruler? Huh? The first thing you must know about being a queen is that you must, first and foremost, be noble, selfless. You're not selfless at all. In fact, you're a selfish _bitch_. Pigs would be flying if anyone ever admitted you to be trusting and faithful because you sure as hell are not, nor are you humble, even less kind and admirable. The only reason your soldiers 'respect' you is because they were afraid you'd do some of your Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo if they didn't obey you. But now—"

Ella smirked as she pointed her sword at the Witch, all the while trying to pull the broken wand out of her torso, only managing to break the already broken stick in half, the half she wasn't holding remaining inches above her hip. It hurt to have it in there, but she couldn't let that stop her from what she was planning to do.

"I'm going to end it." Ella knew the worst way to fight was out of anger, but, at this point, that was the only thing that was going to get the job done. "I'm going to end _you_."

And Ella swung forward, letting her sword clash with the one the Witch was holding, which the princess did not fail to recognize as Edmund's.

From across the crossed blades, Ella looked at the Witch with a piercing gaze and, for a brief moment, she could see uncertainty in her opponent's eyes. She felt grateful for the advantage.

_Advancing. Advancing_. The Witch charged at her with the Narnian blade upheld, going to her foreswing and following it with a backswing. Ella dodged the first and met the second with her broadsword. The weight of the thing sent Witch's stolen blade back, back, back... but not far enough to knock the blade free of his hands.

_Striking_. This arcing shot sliced the thick material of Ella's chest plate at the midsection. It missed the flesh behind it by perhaps a centimeter.

The Witch staggered, then swung again, but her broadsword missed, though not close enough to eat fabric. The Witch managed a smirk, this time at the spryness of her dodge. Ella had to admit it was impressive, but this time, the sight only made her angrier.

_Swing. Swing. Swing_. The first two missed badly, but the third, a backswing off the one before it, found flesh. The heavy broadsword ate through the Witch as easily as air, though as soon as her blade hit its target, another, smaller blade pierced through Ella's side, barely an inch away from where a long bit of the Witch's broken wand was embedded.

Ella instantly let out an igonized scream that seem to freeze Edmund more where he lay on the spot.

Quickly glancing behind her, Ella called out to a Faun close by and ordered him to take Edmund, find Peter and get them both out of there. After getting over his initial shock of seeing the princess alive, he couldn't help but hesitate, not wanting to leave her at the Witch's mercy, but after one hard glare sent his way, he obliged to her order. Edmund began to protest as he was being dragged away from the duel between rulers, but he couldn't find his own strength to pull away and run back.

Ella quickly brought her leg up and kicked Jadis as hard as she could, making her stagger backward a few feet.

Stumbling onto her feet, Ella grasped the hilt of the dagger buried into her side then, with a shriek, she yanked it out and dropped it onto the ground.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?"

"I can go at this all day," Ella replied.

"Really? because it looks more like you've got nothing else to offer in that pitiful state."

"Oh, believe me, I've got a whole lot more up my sleeve, you frosty bitch," Ella growled before kicking away the Witch's sword then punching her straight in the jaw.

"That's for killing my parents." Another punch was thrown at the now weaponless Witch. "That was for you being the cause of my leaving Narnia." Another kick. "That was for every living being you tortured and killed."

Then she jumped and twirled in the air, throwing a tornado kick at the ice queen, causing her to fly backward.

"And that's for all of Narnia."

The Witch stumbled on her feet, managing to send a puzzled at Ella, though her silent question was answered by Aslan, who, at that precise moment, let out a mighteous roar before leaping upon rock, his roar almost bringing a storm of winds as gusts of it picked up around him, the shine of the sun making his fur practically glow.

"Oh, not you too," Jadis grumbled.

Then, not even a second later, the great Lion leapt from the stone he stood upon and pounced on the 'Queen' of Narnia, doing a number on her with his mighty canines before, and finally, killing her.

Aslan turned around and looked over at Peter.

"It is finished."

"Peter," Susan and Lucy shouted to him.

He turned around and hugged his younger sister. But Susan noticed something quickly.

"Where is Edmund?"

Peter, Susan, and Lucy ran over to the place that he was standing, still sightly petrified from watching Ella fight for his life.

"Edmund!" Susan shouted, quickly shooting an arrow at a dwarf she noticed advancing him.

The three siblings surrounded their brother. Susan took oﬀ Edmund's helmet, while Lucy took out a curious looking vial out of her belt after noticing her brother had been injured. Opening the top, she put a single drop of the red liquid into Edmund's mouth.

Edmund coughed once, then twice, and grimaced. "What the bloody hell is that?!"

Rolling his eyes at his younger brother, Peter grabbed Edmund and held him tight.

"When are you going to learn to do as you're told?" Peter said, his voice full of laughter.

Edmund smiled, and the four embraced in a tight circle.

Then, with Aslan's breath and Lucy's cordial much of their army, including General Oreius.

To say Ella was happy would be an understatement. She felt so much joy and relief as she watched many Narnians reunite with their lost loved ones. However, her joy and relief faded as soon as a ruptured feeling burst into her stomach, making it feel like it was on fire.

She almost began to believe there was poison eroding her loosely dangly esophagus as she felt them collide with her other vital organs as they all become touched and affected with what she started to believe was really poison. But how— when had she been poisoned? Could it have been the Witch's dagger?

_No_, Ella thought as she remembered beginning to feel nauseous before getting stabbed anew. The wand._ But how?_

Suddenly, she could think no more as her mind shut down completely and her body collapsed onto the ground.

"So that's a magic healing potion," said Edmund, finally grasping what his little sister had just done.

Lucy giggled. "Yes, Edmund." She then glanced around, but soon found herself frowning. "Has anyone seen Ella?"

Noticing, too, that the girl was missing Edmund glanced around, his face mirroring his sister's frown.

"She was just with us a moment ago," said Susan.

Suddenly, a voice caught their attention. "_Hiril vuin! Echuio, An ngell nîn_," **(My lady, wake up, please)** cried Borneth, grabbing Ella into her arms and desperately shaking her. "Ella... Please..." She then looked around. "_Rehta! Aliquis, rehta!_" **(Help! Somebody, help!)**

Peter didn't wait any longer before he sprinted toward the elleth and the fallen princess. As soon ad he reached them, he dropped to his knees and carefully pulled Ella from Borneth's arms, gently cradling the unconscious girl in one arm.

"_Eleanor_!" he muttered, shaking her slightly. "Ella― don't be dead― please don't be dead..."

He flung his sword aside, grabbed Ella by the shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was so pale, it was frightening to see, but he couldn't look away, not even when Raina and Egleriel rushed over to see what was wrong with Ella.

Lucy stepped forward and got onto her knees while uncapping vial that contained the red healing liquid. She leaned forward then poured a drop that fell straight into Ella's mouth through her parted plump lips.

They waited a few seconds, all tense as they waited for the potion to take effect, but after almost a whole minute, nothing happened.

"Why isn't it working?" Edmund asked.

Lucy stared down at Ella's unconscious form with horrified eyes. "I-I don't know," she whispered, frightened.

"I don't understand," mumbled Susan. "She was standing only a moment ago..."

"Ella, please wake up," Peter muttered desperately, shaking her. Ella's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

Suddenly, one of the Aldaelon twins gasped, catching the attention of the Pevensies.

"Tell us, Raina, what is the verdict?" asked Aslan, slightly startling them all; no one had noticed him approach them.

The girl had a panicked look on her face as she looked at the King before shifting her gaze downward. All following her gaze, they finally noticed the elleth had removed the princess' chestplate that revealed her black shirt, which Raina had lifted when she had searched for fatal injuries.

There, on her pale skin were two cuts— one clearly caused by a dagger, while the other one was rather uglier with a piece of the Witch's broken wand sticking out from it. Surrounding the hideous wound was what appeared to be her veins that almost looked as though they had been injected with black ink. The black veins kept slowly appearing, one by one connecting in a way that made it clear was heading for her heart.

"Oh, no," mumbled Egleriel as she reached over and quickly, yet carefully pulled the wand's remaining piece out of Ella, making the hole it had created gush out a thick black liquid of sorts.

"What's happening? Why is it like that?" Susan asked, eyes wide with fright.

"The wand," said Borneth as she was the magic expert in her family. "Although it was already broken when the princess was stabbed with it, a bit of magic still remained within it."

"Black magic?" Raina asked.

Borneth nodded. "And Princess Erella is a creation of pure white magic— the complete opposite of Dark Arts."

"I don't understand," Lucy whimpered, taking hold of Susan's hand who squeezed hers back comfortingly.

"Black magic is poison to creatures, like us, who wield its opposite. The magic in the wand did this to Erella."

"It's killing her," Edmund realized. Peter looked up, alarmed, his arms subconsciously tightening around Ella.

"Then it must be removed," said Gwaindir as he walked over to them, having overheard the entire conversation.

"It's not that simple," said Egleriel.

"Well then make it simple," snapped the elf. It was rather strange seeing him act up like that especially since he was an elf, but it was understandable.

"At ease, knight," said Aslan.

The Lion then roared out to a few Griffina. The creatures swooped down and one was ordered to take Ella to Cair Paravel, while the others were told to take the Aldaelon sisters and the Pevensies.

Once at the castle, Ella was taken into a room, where no one could enter but the twin elleths.

When they were finally let in, the Pevensies felt relieved that she would be alright, but saddened at her appearance as she remained unconscious on her bed.

Her brown had been let out of her braid and fell in lovely curls down her chest, her skin looked smoother, but it was still completely pale, almost as white as snow. You would've thought she was dead... if it weren't for her blazing temperature, but...

"Don't worry, Ella," Peter said softly after he was left alone with Ella.

Eyes tender as they gazed down at her, he reached a hand out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes before letting the back of his hand caress her cheek.

"You'll be alright," he continued. "We won. There's nothing to worry about now... just you getting better, so we can celebrate our victory."

He then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Get better, Princess Ella," he whispered before straightening himself and walking out of the room to get himself some rest after their satisfying triumph.


	15. For the First Time in Forever

**For the First Time in Forever**

_"Don't worry, Ella."_

She stirred from slumber.

_A strand of hair was brushed away from her eyes before her cheek was caressed._

_"You'll be alright... we won. There's nothing to worry about now... just you getting better, so we can celebrate our victory."_

Her brows furrowed as her mouth curled downward into a frown, but her eyes never opened.

_A soft kiss was then placed on her forehead._

_"Get better, Princess Ella."_

She awoke in a large, cozy room in which she could hear joyful voices and laughter seeping in through her window.

"Good morning. Or should I say, afternoon," came the voice of Aslan.

"Where am I?" the girl asked, starting to sit up.

She knew exactly where she was, though it felt like a dream, and she did not want to find out it was.

"At ease, child," the Lion replied, gently pushing the girl back down onto the bed with his big head. "You're in your bedchamber at Cair Paravel."

The girl's face showed her hesitance. "Am I really?"

The Great Lion nodded his head. Ella found herself smiling for a moment before she threw her arms around the enormous feline and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"It's over! It's finally over!" she cried out joyfully.

"Indeed, it is. You should rest now, young one."

Ella pulled away and gave her grandfather a playful yet slightly disbelieving look. "Are you jesting, grandpapa? I've been out for... how long have I been out for?"

The lion chuckled and nuzzled his big nose against her cheek, affectionately. "Merely a fortnight."

"A fortnight?!"

Aslan gave her a small smile. "Be glad it wasn't years; your mother once over-exhausted herself while practicing her magic and ended up falling into a deep three-year long slumber."

That made the young woman crack a smile before it faded. What now? The war was over now, but what did that mean? Over the years, she had become a girl of two worlds, both of which just so happened to be at war, so she had no idea what the war ending meant to her now. Was she going to return to the world where sexism existed? Where war was still amidst? Or was she going to get to stay in her real home this time? But then... what of the people who were dear to her in the land where there was no magic? She was not like the Pevensies; her absence would not go unnoticed.

"They think you're missing," said Aslan, answering her silent question. "_Some_ believe you have suffered the same fate as the rest of the Kirkes, but most still believe you're somewhere, alive. They've been sending search parties for you, thankfully not thinking you wouldn't be there."

She didn't reply. She brought her knees up to her chest and buried her face in between them.

"You've been given a great gift, Erella. The ability to give hope to those who think very little of life."

Ella scoffed softly. "There is no bloody way I bring hope to people. Even I realize how cold I've been in the past few years. I'm... I'm a Missus Medlock in the world's secret garden."

Aslan chuckled, causing Ella to look up and scowl at him.

"You find my misery amusing."

"What I find amusing is how confident you can be one moment, then overly self-conscious the next. You are a peculiar child, but that's one of the many reasons that only makes me care for you even more. That's why many care for you, in fact. Like your grandfather Kirke, Missus Macready, Mason." Ella looked away at the mention of the boy's name, her face flushing slightly as she recalled their last encounter. "He is a very charitable young man; he, too, brings hope into people's lives. Hope that they will live a better life... but _you_ are his hope. You were his first friend. His first crush." Ella blinked, surprised. "His first love, and, upon your reunion, you've given him hope that his life just might get better."

She looked up at her grandfather with tears in her eyes. "Hope..."

Aslan smiled. "Yes, hope. As a friend, and as the girl in his every class who always stuck by his side." Her cheeks flushed bashfully, making Aslan chuckle. "Do not feel embarrassed about it; your mother and father were like two ducklings in a pond, never leaving either one's side."

"What should I do then?" she whimpered. "I know it's been a long time since I've left, and... I'm not going to lie— I miss it over there. But... I don't want to leave. Is that bad?"

Aslan stepped forward and nuzzled his big nose against her cheek. "What does your mind tell you?"

"That it is very dangerous to be this close to a lion," she replied automatically, earning herself another chuckle from Aslan, causing her to sigh before she answered honestly. "My mind is telling me that I should go back. Grandfather Kirke is getting older, and so is Missus Macready; they need me— someone who isn't paid to clean the house but will voluntarily keep them company and take care of them when needed."

"And your heart?"

Ella pursed her lips. "My heart... it's beating loudly," she mumbled, placing a hand on her chest. "My heart is telling me to stay. Stay and live the life that was taken from me. To take my place upon my throne and rule with purpose to, not only care for my people but also honor the ruling of my predecessors, my parents."

Aslan hummed, content with her answer. "It's good to listen to our minds because they come up with the best and most logical plans one can come up with, but when it's life... love, the heart's the one you should follow," said the lion.

Ella's brows furrowed as she thought hard, her focus wavering slightly when Aslan nuzzled her cheek once again.

"I will leave you to yourself now, _Henig_," **(My child)** said Aslan before he began to walk toward the door.

Ella watched him for a moment before calling out to him. At the door, the lion paused, waiting for the girl's next words and felt warmth in his chest when they came.

"Grandpapa... thank you. Thank you for choosing me."

After that, she was left alone in her room where she chose to stay for the rest of the day. The only moment she had gone out was after she had eaten her midday meal; she'd gone out to the balcony of her room and had chuckled to herself when she'd noticed the Pevensies together on the stone platform in the enormous revived garden, being taught by a few elleths how to dance. She guessed the latters were preparing them for the coronation. She'd been surprised, however, when she found Edmund participating as much as his sisters while Peter sat on the side, looking rather broody.

Later that night, she came out of her safe haven and decided to go for a walk. Humming one of the beautiful melodies that often haunted her dreams, she gracefully strode across the marble floors of the long corridor, only stopping when she suddenly bumped into an unusually warm body. Looking up, she blinked in a slightly owlish manner as she found herself staring up at Peter Pevensie; she had almost forgotten what the blond boy looked like up close.

"Ella!" Peter almost shouted in surprise as he looked down at the beautiful princess standing before him. "You're awake!" And without further warning, he pulled her into his arms, holding her in a tight, yet gentle and somewhat sweet embrace.

"Oh!" she mumbled, taken aback by his unusual forwardness.

Peter stood there for a moment, Ella pulled flush against his chest, his arms holding her tightly in place. After a few more seconds went by and he finally realized what he was doing, he quickly pulled back as though she had burnt him, and looked away, face red with embarrassment as he stuttered his apologies for his act.

Ella simply looked at him, amusement swimming in the depths of her hazelnut eyes that were shining ever so beautifully with that hint of forest green and gold. "No need to be shy about it, Peter; s'alright. I'm... flattered to find you worried about me."

The red tint began to slowly dissipate from his face, but small flushes of it, however faint, remained on his cheeks as his nervous gaze softened upon her, his eyes giving her the fondest look he'd ever given anyone. "We all were; you gave us all quite the fright. Don't do anything stupid like that again," he added, trying to sound as stern as possible, but failing miserably as he found himself returning the broad smile she gave him.

She let out a small laugh, momentarily glancing down at the marble floor, before boring her gaze back into his sky-blue eyes. "I'll try. As long as _you_ promise to not do anything _as_ stupid."

The pair of young royals shared a laugh, eyes never leaving the others'. When the genuine and innocent laughter died out, Peter finally mustered enough courage to ask her to walk with him. It wasn't like he was asking her to court him, but it seemed as though asking her... anything, really, made him nervous. She made him nervous, but that was probably just because of the feelings he had begun to have for her. For a moment there, he thought he would start sweating and would be ridiculed as she stared at him with that usual intense gaze of hers, but he found asking her, in the end, was well worth it as he was rewarded with another bright, charming smile.

"Of course," was her soft reply.

She then slipped her arm through his, and let him lead her down the hall, down the stairs to the main ground, and out into the gardens, where they could faintly hear the younger Pevensies still out and about, laughing and running around with childling nymphs and elves. Their stroll remained quiet for a while, both simply enjoying each other's company; something they hadn't found themselves able to do until now. A few more minutes passed so before Ella embarked them into a small conversation, asking what she had missed in the two weeks she'd been comatose.

After passing gardens after gardens, she finally decided to bring up the earlier activity she'd caught his siblings participating in and him avoiding. She laughed heartily when he'd complained about Borneth's strict attitude regarding their lessons.

"It's an Aldaelon thing," she then told him. "They get really serious about something they're passionate about, in her case art."

"I thought she was a seamstress!"

Ella snorted in a very unladylike manner. "She is a terrible seamstress. I've lost count of how many holes she's poked into my skin while fitting me in the dresses she's designed."

"She's made them all alright," Peter argued.

Ella stopped short in what she was about to reply and, after grasping what Peter said, a faint pink blush began to tint her cheeks. She looked away from the boy, clearing her throat before she said, "She's a fashionista, and fashion is art. Just like music and dancing. Plus, if anything, she _is_ an elleth. They're all about art, though they're not as bad as giants when it comes to music." She stopped short in her step, a small grimace making its way onto her face. "Actually, they're almost as bad. Not as bad as the woodland, though. They're good, but they're also the worst."

"Truly?"

The princess nodded. "Oh, yes. Not a word leaves their mouths without it being sung. It's fun to watch and listen to the first song around, but when you find they sing a song for literally everything, it gets rather annoying."

Their pleasant chatter suddenly died out when Peter finally realized something: they'd been walking for a little over an hour now and he had no idea where they were headed. When he asked Ella the about, she merely smiled at him, a strange glint twinkling in her hazelnut eyes, before she grabbed his hand and dragged him into another direction. He couldn't find it in himself to try and stop her, or demand for an answer as he was so lost in the feeling of her soft hand in his like the lovesick boy he was becoming.

They were suddenly back inside the palace, walking down the long gallery. The walls were lined with portraits of the previous rulers and their families, their faces looking down upon the pair.

"You wanted to bring me to a gallery?" Peter asked dubiously.

Ella's head snapped his way, blinking in confusion, before looking around them, letting out a chuckle when she realized where she had led him through; she had been so focused on her destination that she had not realized what was around them on the way there as her feet could take her there without her mind even being set to it.

"Sorry, no," said Ella. "Honestly, I had actually forgotten about this place."

Peter chuckled slightly, though his small laughter soon faded when he found himself once again captivated by her beautiful features. Nervously, Peter looked away, his gaze landing on the portrait in front of them. It was a sizable painting of a very much younger Ella riding a majestic horse. She was larger than life, her hand holding a sword high in the air, her eyes trained on something in the distance. He was surprised he hadn't noticed before, when he had first met her: she was every bit a princess.

"Is that you?" Peter asked.

Following his gaze, Ella found herself blushing slightly as she regarded the portrait of herself. "I hate myself in paintings," she said sheepishly. "Don't you?"

Peter let out a nervous laugh. "No one has ever painted my portrait."

"Well, they will," said Ella.

Peter felt his face flush. He looked back up at the wall. "What were you doing?"

"That?" said Ella, pointing at the picture. "I haven't got a clue." She laughed. "Honestly, I have no idea when this portrait was even painted. In all my time I've spent in Narnia before, never have I ever posed for a self-portrait. But here is one."

Her gaze shifted around the gallery, and her face seemed to redden even more as she saw many other portraits of herself, some of her younger self, and others of her as of late— leading the battle against the White Witch, which really wasn't the whole truth. Peter did most of the leading; that's why she trained him. Granted, she did battle against the Witch and ended her, but even then, she did not kill her. Aslan did. She shouldn't be given so much credit for something she did not do alone.

"And... plenty others, from what I can see," she mumbled, swiping her glance away from the paintings around as she knew, sooner or later, she would find some of her parents, and she really didn't want to be saddened upon coming across them. "They should really stop making portraits of me without my permission."

Peter smiled, amused. "But if you were asked all the time, and you refused, Narnia would have nothing to remember their rulers by... even though it is quite terrible to find people have been musing over you for their paintings without you knowing..."

Ella cracked a smile. "You're right. It is terrible. It really is."

Before Peter could ask her any more questions though, Ella took his hand in hers. As he looked down at their interlaced fingers, all other thoughts left his mind once again. He followed as Ella led him out of the gallery and into the plain gardens behind the palace.

There were seemingly plenty of gardens, he mused; in front of the palace, out the east and west wings of the castle, and now, behind it as well, he discovered.

The princess led him into what appeared to be a maze. Two turns to the right, and one to the left, they halted upon a well-rounded oak door covered in earthly green vines. A bird seemed to fly in from nowhere and began to happily chirp at Ella, who chuckled and smiled brightly at the bird.

"It's nice to see you again too, Robin."

Peter had grown used to the fact that he was in a magical land by now, but the fact that Ella could speak to and understand animals who didn't speak like the other Narnians still baffled him quite a bit. How was it that she seemed to hear words, when others merely heard tweets and chirps?

Suddenly, the bird flew away, and Ella followed it, heading towards an oddly shaped tree. A willow, Peter guessed. He watched curiously as Ella walked over to it, then reached a hand inside a hollow of the tree, searching a bit until she finally pulled back, revealing herself to be holding a slightly rusted, golden key. Noticing his stare, Ella merely smiled at him— something he was still trying to get used to— and went over to the door hidden within sight.

Beyond the oak door, the moon, now full and high in the night sky, bathed everything in a silver glow. Being led further in, Peter gazed ahead in awe as his eyes caught sight of a large ornamental fountain standing in the middle of the grounds, water spraying out of the mouths of ceramic fish, and several people who once held high importance standing captured forever in stone, the statues being the memories of the good they had once done.

One statue in particular— one that oddly resembled Cupid, one of the many gods of love and desire— trained his bow in a way that seemed to be aimed right at Ella and Peter as they walked past, though neither noticed.

Ella smiled to herself, admiring the beauty surrounding them. "My father grew this garden with the help of my aunt, Marjory. For my mother. He wanted to find a way to express his love to her, and Aunt Jory, the herbalist in the family, thought a garden would be the perfect way to portray their blossoming love. It was dying when I first found it, but with the help of Robin and a few others, I got to heal the tree nymphs guarding this haven." Her smile turned to said Narnians sprinkling water to some flowers around, who smiled as well upon seeing the princess. "And they've worked wonderfully at keeping it alive ever since."

"With whom did you heal the nymphs?" Peter asked, growing even more curious when he noticed the faint rosy tint coloring her cheeks anew.

"Well... there were quite many, let's leave it at that."

"Ella..."

The princess huffed, avoiding his gaze. "Alright, fine." She sighed. "There were squirrels, rabbits... sheep and geese, which I still wonder how they even got in..." Ella bit her lip for a moment before saying, "And there were mice too, who are rather excellent listeners."

Peter looked at Ella, trying to see if she was teasing him. When all he saw was mere embarrassment, he smiled; this girl continued to amaze him. She portrayed herself as a strong young woman. And she was. She was strong, wise and well held together, but there was also an innocent side to her, one she perhaps did not even know she possessed. It was so genuine and sweet, though neither hid nor overthrew the incredible strength she had within herself. Peter felt as though he'd only scratched the surface, and he longed to find out more about her.

They continued to walk around the grounds, past rosebushes, a grove of trees with ivory petals blooming on the branches, and various other well-manicured plants and flowers.

Passing a particularly lovely ornamental urn, Ella smiled to herself. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured. "Sometimes I wish I had known my parents, and that they had shown me this place, rather than I having stumbled upon it. What better feeling of being gifted such paradise by someone you love, rather than finding it alone and not being able to share the discovery?"

"Do you suppose heaven is real?" Peter suddenly asked.

Ella shrugged lightly. "I don't see why not." Then she smiled again. "If it were though, I think heaven would be like a ball," she declared.

"How so?" Peter asked curiously.

"Everyone is always invited to balls."

Peter laughed, liking the sudden sweetness she let out.

"Everyone missed you, you know," he said softly, gazing sadly at the ground, his hand absentmindedly fiddling with her fingers. "You were... so cold and pale, and your breathing kept stopping— we were afraid you wouldn't make it."

It was silent between them for a long moment, Peter's eyes remaining firmly set on the blades of grass beneath their feet, trying hard not to look up upon feeling Ella's hazel eyes gazing intently at him.

"And you?"

The sudden softness and uncertainty in her voice made his eyes snap up to meet hers. Again, he was at loss of words and all other feeling, for all he saw and could think of was this beautiful warrior princess standing before him.

"I was afraid _I_ might lose you," he whispered, his honesty surprising Ella.

Ella felt her heart to lurch and somersault, causing her to feel perplexed with herself, for never had she ever felt this way before. Not knowing what or how to respond to this, she reached out her free hand and gently touched his arm. There was comfort in her touch, but the hint of awkwardness in her eyes only dampened it.

Poor Ella. As cold and distant as she put herself out to be, she truly was a good person— a sweet and caring girl, seemingly full of knowledge and wisdom beyond her years. And yet, romance was something she remained completely innocent and oblivious about.

"Would you like to see my very favorite spot?"

Ella's question caught Peter off guard. He had been so lost in his own thoughts he'd forgotten to enjoy the moment while he could. He nodded, and, so, Ella led him away from the more formal gardens. As they headed farther down the path, nature seemed to take over. The bushes grew wilder, the trees' leaves hung lower, and the grass grew higher. It was a romantic garden, full of life and wild beauty.

"A secret garden within a secret garden," Peter mused softly.

The awkwardness leaving as it came, Ella gave him a small genuine smile. "I've never shown this to anyone," she said, pulling aside a few branches to reveal an old wooden swing.

Eyes lighting up upon seeing it, Peter looked at Ella and gave her a slightly mischievous grin. "Princess," he said in a horribly posh accent as he motioned her forward to take the seat.

Ella laughed. "I'm too old for this!" she exclaimed herself, backing away slightly.

"No one's too old for this!" Peter countered, stepping closer to her.

"Then you should do it."

"It's your swing."

"You're my guest here."

"I'm afraid I don't remember how to use one of these, perhaps you can show me."

Ella looked at him, wide-eyed upon hearing his lame excuse. Suddenly, she burst into a loud fit of laughter, Peter joining her within mere seconds upon realizing what he had said. After a few more minutes had passed, and their laughter finally began to die out, Ella spoke again, her voice shaking from the fading laughter.

"I shouldn't," she protested weakly.

But Peter wouldn't listen. "You should."

"I _really_ shouldn't."

"You _really_ should."

"Fine. I will." Ella gingerly took a seat, the wood creaking beneath her.

Peter moved behind her and placed both hands on the small of her back, his touch hesitant. "May I?" he asked, his voice a whisper in her ear.

Ella's heart fluttered again, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. "Please," she said softly.

Ever so gently, Peter pushed Ella forward. She tucked her knees under the seat, sending the swing back to him. As the swing squeaked, Ella let out a slightly childish laugh. She hadn't been on a swing in years, and she felt foolish and alive. It reminded her of riding her stallions in the forest, the cool wind rushing past her. Peter gave her an even harder push and Ella flew high into the air. As the seat reached its peak, one of her shoes flew off and landed in the grass a short distance away.

Ella let out a surprised "Oh!"

Peter raced to retrieve the shoe as Ella slowed the swing until she was still. "It's made of... gold," Peter said in a tone of wonder. He was holding the shoe very carefully in his hand.

"And why not?" Ella replied with a twinkle in her eye. "It's not what I would've personally chosen, but I do believe it's better than glass."

Peter laughed softly at her subtle reference as he walked back to Ella. "Allow me." He then knelt down in front of her and gently slid the slipper back onto her foot. Their eyes met, and the garden suddenly seemed hushed. Ella felt herself holding her breath, lost in the sudden beauty of the moment.

"There," Peter finally said, his voice full of unspoken emotion.

"There," she echoed breathlessly as he stood and helped her back onto her feet.

Face-to-face, they lingered. The moment was pure and simple. Beautiful and surprisingly romantic. It was perfect. And then Ella spoke again, and Peter realized it was not altogether real.

"For some reason, I felt like Cinderella just a moment ago," she murmured, her hazel eyes never leaving his bright blue orbs. "I wonder why..."

"Perhaps it was because you both lost a shoe," Peter offered, his voice just as soft.

"And a prince returned it to her."

Ella couldn't seem to catch her breath. She felt as though her ribs were tightening around her heart. This was it... but what the hell was _this_?

"We should probably head back inside," Ella then blurted out, her words tearing through the mood like nails on a chalkboard.

Peter stared at her for a long moment before he protested teasingly, "But it's not midnight yet!"

Ella blinked owlishly, then felt her eyes widen and her face redden upon understanding his reference. "Oh, shut up, Pensive!"

"As you wish, Princess Cinderella."

The pair of teenagers then fell into another fit of laughter, almost falling over their own feet from how hard they laughed. A few more minutes passed, and the pair had yet to leave as they had planned, when, suddenly, a loud ear-piercing shriek tore through the air, breaking their joyful and peaceful moment.

"What in Aslan's name is that?" Peter exclaimed himself, covering his ears in attempt to stop the loud shrieking from piercing his eardrums.

Sobering up, Ella looked up at the darkened sky with furrowed brows, her eyes slowly shifting toward the grass-covered wall separating her secret garden from the rest of the palace. It was night already— everyone, including those who worked at the palace, should be getting ready to sleep.

"That sounds like..." Ella's eyes grew wide upon realization. "Oh, no!" she cried. Peter gave her a questioning look. "It's hard to explain. Fairies, magic stones—" She was cut off once more by the same ear-piercing shriek. "Glavrolel!"

Peter gave her a puzzled look. "Glavor... what?"

She didn't bother to elaborate. Instead, with one last look at Peter, she turned and ran. Ella ran as fast as her golden heels would allow. She heard Peter call out to her to wait, but she merely pushed herself to run faster.

Through the garden, to the terrace, and up the stone steps, she soon found herself standing in front of the door to the gallery where their walk had begun. Moving through the doors, she disappeared into the darkness of the gallery. She raced past the portraits and burst through the doors on the other side, running along long hallways darkened from the night.

Finally reaching the room from which she had heard the shriek coming from, she slowed her run into a quick pace, merely glancing behind her shoulder when a breathless Peter finally caught up to her. The pair entered the throne room, where a very tired Lucy clung to Susan, Edmund rubbing the equal exhaustion from his eyes as they all stood before a clearly panicked girl. At first glance, one would have thought it was a little girl, but as Peter and Ella neared the group, the eldest Pevensie could see the almost transparent wings fluttering in the back of the petite female who was clearing a grown woman, he discovered, when they finally reached them.

The Pevensies were utterly confused as the petite creature babbled on, a frightened look etched on her face as she repeatedly bowed before Ella. The eldest child of the bunch merely raised her hand to hush the creature.

"What are you?" Lucy was the first to blurt out upon finally noticing the wings on the female's back.

Ella sighed through her nose, tiredly removing the tiara from her head before running her hand through her loosened hair. "_Jukka sa da bainwen_," **(She is a fairy)** she said automatically, speaking softly. "_Jukka sa da Naladris a vell Elendilmir._" **(She is the Guardian of the Arkenstone.)**

"What?"

Ella's cheeks flushed upon realizing her mishap. "Sorry... I forgot you lot haven't gotten much time to learn the Narnian language yet," she apologized. "Pevensies, this is Glavrolel. She's a fairy. A Clurichaun, to be more specific. Her family has been guarding a very precious totem of my own for centuries on end. She was the latest to be chosen to be the guardian of the Arkenstone."

"What's an Arkenstone?" Edmund asked.

"It's a very powerful crystal. Dangerous, if fallen into the wrong hands," Aslan explained.

With a hardened look on her face, Ella added, "It can bring destruction upon lands, but it can also heal earths. There is seemingly always a war before the next coronation-to-be in Narnia. The Arkenstone has been used by each crowned royal of my family to heal all destruction caused by recent wars. Glavrolel's family hid it somewhere safe, where no one could find it until it is time to bring it out."

"There is a slight problem regarding that, Your Grace," said fairy spoke up, her English coming out slightly broken as she struggled to communicate with the royals in their common tongue.

Ella's brows furrowed upon hearing this. "_Strod sa nistai?_" **(What is wrong?)**

"_Vell elessar, Hiril vuin..._" the fairy whispered. "_A-an sa taldra._" **(The stone, My lady... I-it is gone.)**

Ella's eyes widened upon hearing this. "What?! How?!" she demanded.

"I-I—"

"Do not patronize her, child," said Aslan.

"I am not patronizing her," said Ella defensively. "I'm demanding to know how a _fairy_ with a _dragon_ for a partner in guard could have lost _one_ stone." Looking back down at the fairy, Ella asked, "Where is Daildrir?"

"_Vi tuon nid traf, Hiril vuin._" **(I do not know, My lady)** Glavrolel glanced down at her feet, timidly. "_Melt vi yidda dhess, juk der melearith quasa Alzror, Nyriss dro Zannays._" **(Last I saw him, he was fighting against Alzror, Nyriss and Zannays.)**

"_Na van der mannel, henig?_" **(When was this, child?)** Aslan asked the sobbing fairy.

"_Kei vell kaldar._" **(During the war.)**

"And you've waited two weeks to tell us?" Ella groaned.

"Well, you _were_ unconscious that whole time," Edmund pointed out.

"My family sent our other two dragons to look for Daildrir," the fairy said. "The stone, however, had been here this whole time."

"Until?"

"Today, _Hiril vuin_," Glavrolel whispered. "I know not how it was taken. With the help of my parents and sisters, I placed a tracking charm on the crystal that would show us its destination if it were ever to be taken."

"And yet no one thought to place a _protection_ charm on it, so no one could actually take it," Ella said quite sourly.

"Enough, Erella," Aslan said quietly. "It is late; you should all retire. We will continue this discussion on the morrow."

No one dared to argue with the Lion. The Pevensies and the fairy did as they were told, Ella heading back to the gardens rather than retiring to her room to cool off her temper.

"You're planning on leaving."

Ella couldn't help but sigh from where she sat on a bench, near a fountain. It had been so quiet and comforting being alone in the gardens. His presence was by no means unpleasant... not anymore; she really would have appreciated being left alone to her thoughts, though.

"I _need_ to find the stone. If not for the sake of Narnia, but for the sake of my own mind," she said softly.

Peter walked up behind her placed a hand on her half-bare shoulder. "I'll go with you." His voice was as soft as hers, though demanding as he knew if it were otherwise, she would say 'no'.

"No." Apparently, she would say it either way.

"Ella—"

"No Peter, a ruler must always remain in Narnia."

"My brother and sisters are rulers—"

"But _you're_ the eldest. I may have trained each one of them in battle, but you're the eldest; they will follow _you_." She turned to look at him as he sat down beside her. "Peter, you led my people into battle and ensured our victory. You're meant to rule. You're the High King."

"And you're the High Queen."

She groaned at his stubbornness. "Peter..."

"Teach me how to dance," he said suddenly.

Puzzled by his deflection, she asked, "What?" Her voice had risen slightly up an octave, mirroring her disbelief filled with every ounce of confusion she felt.

"Teach me... how to dance."

For a moment, she looked at him with an unsettling intensity. "You do know I won't go easy on you, right?"

His lips quirked slightly. "Yes."

"Fine."

"Good." Peter smiled as he stood, offering her a hand. "Will you sing something?"

Ella took his hand and let him lead her to a more open space in the garden. "There's already no music."

"I'm sure the Nymphs won't have any problem following along."

"And you wonder why I call you Pensive." Ella rolled her eyes at him as they came to a halt and faced each other. "Alright... so." She brought the hand she held up to her waist. "This hand goes here," she mumbled.

Peter glanced down at their feet for a moment before he felt a finger under his chin, tilting his head back up.

"Don't look at your feet," said Ella. "You lead with your eyes."

"How do I lead with my—"

"You asked me to teach you," Ella cut him off, her tone suddenly flat with annoyance. "I'm teaching you."

Removing her finger from under his chin, she took hold of his left hand, holding it gently in her right, as her own left settled on his shoulder. She explained to him the basics of the waltz, telling him it was almost like a simply sway to any music playing. Almost. The differences were that the waltz had a three-beat count and was meant to be danced gracefully. To dance gracefully, one had to loosen their body, something Peter wasn't exactly good at.

"Oh, Lord," she grumbled. "You're as bad as when I fist taught you to wield a sword."

"Hey!"

"Loosen up and I won't insult you."

So, he did. He listened to her every word, very attentively, following her each command until, suddenly, she stopped speaking. Her eyes fluttered closed as she took a very deep breath before she opened her mouth anew, though, this time, not to speak.

"_Whenever I was frightened..._" she started singing, her eyes fluttering back open, though not meeting his gaze. "_Or ever felt alone._"

A feathery light step was taken with a turn.

"_I turned to the night sky... and a star I call my own._"

A couple of smaller steps were taken as the first drops of rain had started to fall, but neither of them noticed.

"_Somewhere I could run to... just across the Milky Way..._"

Her hazelnut eyes shone only more beautifully with that hint of forest green and gold they held as the moon reflected itself upon them. Shifting her gaze to meet his own, she smiled softly.

"_If you like I could take you..._" this phrase came out in a slight whisper before she sang a little more loudly. "_It's just a light year and a day._"

Their steps grew wider and more natural as they began to dance around the garden. The imaginary music that seemed to suddenly audibly materialize began to play louder in their ears, and Ella sang along with it, with a soft smile on her face that mirrored the one on Peter's as they danced, finding each other after every twirl seemingly closer to one another.

"_We can sail away tonight... on a sea of pure moonlight. We can navigate the stars, bring us back home!_"

Peter pulled back and spun her around and held her at arms' length for a moment.

"_In a place so far away..._" They paced so, still at arms' length from each other. "_We'll be young that's how we'll stay..._"

Peter then pulled her back toward him and the distance between them reduced to inches, their lips nearly brushing against each others'.

"_Every wish is a command,_" she continued to sing softly as their dancing reduced into a simple sway of their feet.

Peter found himself breathing hard as her breath fanned against his face. He pulled her even closer, his arm wrapping completely around her waist as they danced. Their chests were pressed together, and neither did anything to change that. The rain was falling steadily now, individual drops tracing their way down their faces. They were getting soaked, but neither one seemed to notice.

"_When we find ourselves in never... Neverland..._"

Peter then did something he would have never dared himself to do. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers as her words trailed off into a whisper. Just a little more pressure would have turned that little brush into an actual kiss, and both Peter and Ella found that they didn't mind if that actually _did_ happen.

Before their thoughts could go any further, however, thunder echoed through the night, startling the pair of adolescents. They both glanced up just as the steady rain turned into bucket-loads of water pouring down on them, soaking them to the bone. Rather than being upset at the sudden turn of events, they both laughed then ran back toward the castle, neither letting go of the others' hand.

When they finally reached the door to her room, a sting of reality hit Ella when she found herself standing alone inside her room, her back to her now closed door. She had a nice awakening— finding out the war is over, the Witch is gone, and she had lots of fun with the eldest Pevensie, not once regretting having shared with him her favorite secret spot.

But then why did she feel so restless, all of a sudden? Perhaps it was the fact that a very dangerous family heirloom was missing, and she had no idea how she was meant to go about it.

"_I can't seem to open up my doors…_" she suddenly began to sing, her voice soft, almost a whisper. "_Though it's not like I ever could before..._" She chuckled softly under her breath. "_There's always just been so much on my plate.._."

"_For years I've roamed many empty halls… always tried and would avoid the balls_," Ella giggled this time as she momentarily remembered the many balls she clumsily managed to avoid attending in her past visits to Narnia, her smile gradually vanished as soon as it appeared as, once again, the reality of it all seemed to set back in. "_… though I realize I can't go on this way!_"

Pushing herself away from her door, she made her way over to her wardrobe and grabbed the first riding attire her hand fell upon.

"_I'm a human… and must act so,_" she continued quietly. Slowly, she reached a hand up and took off her crown. She stared at the rhinestone-jeweled royal accessory for a moment before throwing it onto her bed along with the attire she would change into as she let out another chuckle, though more humorless this time. "_Though it'll feel totally strange._"

She ruffled her hands through her wet, tangled hair as she spun on her heels and marched her way over to the door-sized windows leading out onto her balcony. "_But I've been prepped my whole life for this change._"

Throwing those doors open, she stepped out into the balcony, ignoring the light drops of rain still pouring from the sky. "_Now for the first time in forever…_" Her eyes closed as her head titled upward, relishing the feeling of the raindrops splashing softly against her skin. "_I feel good, I feel alright…_"

Her eyes fluttered open, bright with a sudden fierceness and life. "_For the first time in forever_," a sudden dreamy look momentarily crossed her face; "_I feel like dancing through the night…_"

Again, she spun on her heels and marched back into her room, closing the doors and curtains behind her with a flick of her wrist and a twinkle in her eyes.

"_Don't know if this being too carefree_," she sang admittedly with a shrug. "_Maybe it's somewhere in that zone!_"

"_But for the first time in forever!_" She sat at the edge of her bed, a fond smile curled onto her lips as she said, "_I don't feel so alone…_"

Jumping back onto her feet, she rid herself of the white gown she was wearing, struggling slightly with the laces of the corset she wore. When she finally managed to take it off, she began to dress herself in the riding attire she grabbed, sliding on a pair of brown leather trousers that seemingly matched with the blouse she wore above her chainmail.

"_Can't wait for the grand night of the ball_," she then found herself saying with sincere anticipation. "_This time I won't just stand by the wall— a statue stock-still that's clearly in pain!_"

Pulling her hair out from where it was stuffed between her neck and blouse, she spun on her heels and aimlessly stared at her reflection in her mirror as another dreamy look crossed her face.

"_I'll suddenly see him standing there, **that** beautiful stranger, tall and fair—_" Her eyes widened, snapping her out of that quick, bizarre reverie; quickly, she reached out to the night table beside her bed and grabbed a handful of chocolate from the box of 'get-well' sweets that had been left there for her. "_I think I'll stuff some chocolate in my face!_"

_What's with these strange, sudden feelings?_ she wondered, wiping the smudge of chocolate on the corner of her lips. "_This is totally bizarre— nothing like what I have felt so far!_"

Rushing back to her wardrobe, she pulled out a cloak over her shoulders and grabbed her weapons, strapping her sheathed sword around her waist.

"_For the first time in forever, I'll share this magic— I'll have fun. For the first time in forever, I'll feel warm beside someone…_ "

A small smile curled its way back onto her lips as she subconsciously hugged her arms around herself at that mere thought. "_And I know it is totally crazy to think I'd find romance… but for the first time in forever, this feels like that kind of dance._"

Her smile faded as she suddenly reminded herself of what she was meant to do.

Slinging her quiver full of arrows over her shoulder, she grabbed her bow and, with a shake of her head, she made her way to the large doors of her bedchambers.

"_Must be on my way…_" She opened the door slightly ajar and peaked out into the hallway to make sure there was no one around. "_Can't let them see…_"

With a deep breath, she pulled the hood of her cloak and carefully closed the door behind her, ever so quietly making her way down the hall.

Her eyes widened into saucers when she noticed a few guards making their rounds.

With another deep breath, she forced a smile as their eyes fell upon her; she often went out to practice on her own, so they wouldn't be likely to suspect anything.

_Act like the girl you've always had to be…_

The guards smiled back at her and bowed before continuing their rounds, leaving her to her own devices.

Exhaling a breath of relief, Ella tightened her grip on her bow and hurried down the large staircase, her chest tightening as she came upon more of her people, some just cleaning around, and others merely conversing, all stopping to bow or curtsy upon noticing her.

She nodded back at them, a tight smile on her face as she continued to make her way toward her destination, not once speaking out of fear that she might give herself away.

_Conceal, don't yield— put on a show... make one wrong move and everyone will know…_

Once she had reached outdoors, she all but ran for the stables. With a strong shove, she removed the wooden door bar on the large doors and opened them, making her way to the saddles first, before turning toward Midnight.

The stallion in question looked at her questioningly, tilting its large head to the side. With fond eyes, she reached forward and gently caressed his muzzle after carefully fastening the saddle onto his back.

"_We must leave right away,_" she said quietly. "_Can't wait another day…_"

The stallion seemingly whined but made no further protest when she made move to mount his back. When she was comfortably settled atop the unicorn, she gently tugged on the reins and Midnight sped out of his stole, sprinting toward the closed gate where he came to a halt, waiting for a further signal from his rider.

With a loud booming voice, Ella lifted a hand and said, "Guards, would you please open up the gate!"

With a rear on his hind legs, Midnight was soon sprinting into the night, the wind blowing against his hair, and flipping Ella's hood back off her head, but she didn't seem to care one bit. She had felt so stiff upon her awakening, her body aching all over, insatiable for action and adventure.

"_For the first time in forever, I'm fighting for what holds my fate,_" her voice rang in the night, loud and clear and as beautiful as ever, shaking slightly from the rough and rapid movement of the horse moving beneath her, taking her to where she led. "_The chance to take away the pain that once chased me from my reign…_"

Bringing a hand up to hold her close closer around her, she continued. "I must do this before it is too late—yes, I must move forth today! 'Cause for the first time in forever…"

Halting mid-run, the black stallion ridden by the princess backed up a little and started whinnying.

"_For the first time in forever..._"

Ella smiled as her hands subconsciously tightened their grasp on Midnight's reins as he shifted his weight strongly to his hindquarters and, with a balanced rear, much like that day of the Battle of Beruna, Midnight let out the strongest neigh. It was strong, loud and powerful.

That was how she felt as well, in that exact moment as her chest warmed with anticipation of what this journey withheld ahead of her. She wasn't afraid, however. She fought in a war and she fought bitchy Witch— she was ready for this. At this moment…

"_Nothing's in my way!_"

Quickly, she leaned forward, bringing the stallion back to the ground before tugging on his reins as a signal to go on forth, and Midnight wasted no other second as the pair was off, speeding into the night.


End file.
